


hear this heartbeat breaking through

by acastle



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Boxer Harry, Heartbreak, Kid Fic, M/M, Mentions of a hit and run, Minor Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 22:37:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4722959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acastle/pseuds/acastle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He feels another shock of warmth, much more intense, much more overwhelming, as he looks at him. Watches Bailey cling on to this person tightly, laughing as he’s lifted off the ground. He doesn’t know how to describe it, but he’s sure. Very sure, that it is a positive feeling. He doesn’t know how to react to it, really.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>(In which Harry is an amateur boxer, raising his son on his own after the hardest few months of his life, then he meets the piano teacher with a beautiful heart.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	hear this heartbeat breaking through

**Author's Note:**

> I'm very sorry haha. If there are any inaccuracies regarding the makings of a will, or anything regarding that, or how Bailey seems to old for his age, or how anything doesn't seem to fit, I'm sorry. This was very hard to write, but it's special, anyway.

Harry remembers he was prepping for a match when he heard of the news.

Stretching out and sparring a bit with Liam when Gemma had come in, crying, looking a little hysterical, Bailey not really knowing what was happening as he held on tight to his aunt’s hand.

_“Harry, it’s David, there was an accident-”_

*

The funeral was quiet.

David was an only child, loved his parents but maybe loved Harry’s a bit more, Harry most of all, and Harry had met him in uni. David was the TA for his Lit professor, and David professed his sincere love for Harry via a poem he had written the next year once Harry wasn't under his boss's classes, not mentioning him by name specifically, but Harry knew it was him he was pertaining to. It was surprising, in all the best ways. He loved him too, immensely. Had kept it quiet, but David knew it as well. They were great together.

They got married after Harry graduated. There wasn’t really a proposal, or any ceremony. They just knew they wanted to be together, and kind of decided on it over supper one night. Signed some papers, done. It was actually much more romantic than people were made to believe. Only he and David know that, though.

They adopted Bailey when Harry’s friend Cara gave him up, couldn’t keep her herself, but she was still present in his life. Bailey knew his mother. But he knew his fathers more. Papa and Dad.

Cara was there, day of. Of course she was. Loved David and Harry and Bailey like anything. Liam and Anne and Robin and Gemma, David’s parents were there too. Were quiet, but they didn’t really cry until the moment his urn was brought back from the crematory, back to the funeral parlor. Made it all too real, then. That their son wasn’t around anymore.

Bailey cried just the once. When he realized that Papa wasn’t coming back, but he was a strong kid, and he held Harry’s hand the entire way through, squeezing whenever Harry felt like his heart was about to spill out of his mouth because he knows his dad in the way that  he knows Harry’s jaw sets itself when he’s upset. But Harry, he didn’t cry, for Bailey, for his in-laws, for his own family, all grieving while he quietly did the same. He’d done his crying when he saw David, still and pale on the table, sheet covering the rest of his body, covering the sewn up cut right down the middle of his chest, the fresh wounds and cuts the road had given him as he collided with it.

It was a lot to take in. Too much. Too much.

*

It's been four months since a driver who wasn’t paying attention to the stoplight killed his husband.

Harry wears the scars from his ‘side’ job quietly, the bruises on his knuckles taking a little bit longer to heal each time, the scratches and swelling come and go, surely. But the emptiness in his heart is something he’s never quite felt, and his body knows it. Doesn’t know how to react, how to heal him, so it remains, and he wears it quietly as well, and it doesn't take much to mask. People give him these looks, looks of pity and sadness, and he ignores it all. Just does what he's been doing. Works and hits and sweats everything off until he almost can't feel it beneath the ache of his muscles. Sometimes it even works.

"Morning, Harry," Liam greets him as he makes his way to the locker room, the way he always does, every morning before the sun really rises. “What time does your shift start today?”

“Ten,” he replies, taking off his jacket and putting on his workout clothes. “Was supposed to be nine, but Barbara, she gets it. Was actually supposed to go back last week, but all the stuff with settling David’s things and all. Took much longer than I thought.”

“So we’ve got a few hours then,” Liam says, handing him a jump rope. “There were a few promoters here the other day asking about you, Haz-”

“It’s not in the cards anymore, Li,” Harry tells him, walking out and entering the gym. Walks over to the side of the ring, where the mats and punching bags are. "I've got Bailey to think about. Just me and him now. And I'm too old to go legitimately pro. I can do a one-off or something here, but that's it, really."

"But. You're good, Haz," he looks a little disappointed. "You've been doing really great, worked so hard for so long."

"I guess, but I can't keep doing this for much longer," he replies, placing the rope on the table as he sets himself up for his floor-work circuit. Begins with burpees, getting down to the ground and thrusting his feet behind him, tucking them back in and getting up again in a flash. Does about five, before he huffs out as he does his sixth, "Guess I'll actually get to use my Business degree, then. Barbara's been hinting she wanted to retire. Leave me the place once she goes."

"You'd be okay with slowing down, then?" Liam asks him, just as he starts doing squat thrusts, leaving the floor in each rep.

"For Bailey, yeah, I have to be," Harry replies, not stopping for a second, switching over to lunge thrusts, focusing on the slight ache in his muscles that provides him a strange sort of relief. Something else to think about other than what he can't so easily fix.

"How is he? With everything?"

"He's handling it like a champ," Harry answers, fiercely proud. "Like, incredible. A lot of the time, it feels like I'm the one depending on him, and not the other way around like it should be. I don't know, he's a strong kid. Much stronger than I ever was or could be."

"And school?"

"Top of the class even though classes have just started," he replies, moving to do a set of crunches. "He's really David's son. Works hard, but really smart and loves people. Doing really well with those piano lessons, as well."

"Yeah? He pushed through with that?" Liam remarks, sounding impressed. "He's driven. Just like you."

"I don't know," Harry says, huffing as he works his abdomen. "Been thinking of bringing him there, one of these days."

"Who takes him there now?"

"Mum's been bringing him to school ever since the start of the month, to his piano lessons as well," he answers. Turns over to do some push-ups. "David used to do all of that, but. I think I should be getting used to doing his routine as well. I'm his only parent, now."

"If you need any help," Liam says, and Harry really appreciates his presence in his life. Liam's been the greatest friend, and he's so thankful they were paired up for that one boxing class back in uni. "And Haz, don't be too hard on yourself. You've been doing great."

"Thanks, Liam," he says quietly, not really accepting the praise, and he gets back on to his feet to do tuck jumps, then burpees into squat thrusts in quick succession.

He repeats the circuit until he feels his muscles scream, and only then does he pick up the gloves, feeling Liam's eyes watching him carefully, but he needs to keep working. Needs to keep moving, otherwise his head will get too full.

*

"Morning, love," his mother greets him as he walks into the kitchen, gym bag's strap weighing heavily on his shoulder, and he gives her a small smile, not really willing to say much because his entire body feels like it's on fire. "Had a good training?"

He nods, pushing back his still wet-from-a-shower hair from his face as he puts the bag down by the table, and opens the fridge to get the milk for Bailey's cereal.

"Dad!"

Harry turns just in time to catch his son as he jumps into his arms, and he doesn't care if it makes his muscles hurt all that much more. He grins, and swings him around until he's laughing, loud and the sound high in pitch, so happy.

"You smell awful," Bailey beams at him, and Harry pouts playfully, setting him down at his seat, and goes to pull out his favorite bowl and a spoon.

"Excuse me, I just took a bath," Harry teases him, grabbing the box of Honey Cheerios to pour into his bowl.

"No, love, that's your cereal, Bailey likes the Coco Pops," Anne says from where she's sipping her tea.

"Oh, sorry bud," Harry taking the preferred box of cereal and fills his bowl, and pours the milk afterwards, accepting the kiss on the cheek Bailey offers him in thanks.

"Will you come to school with me today?" his son asks him, scooping up his cereal and milk neatly into his mouth.

Harry looks at him, feeling a bit guilty as he answers, "Sorry, bud, I've got to go to work early today, but Nana's bringing you! Buy you one of those cookies you like so much on the way over," he tries to appease Bailey when he visibly drops, pouting a little at his cereal.

"So much better than Dad's cookies, but don't tell him that," Anne stage whispers to Bailey. He laughs loudly, squealing when Harry growls and attacks him with tickles.

"Sorry, bud, but I'll pick you up and bring you to piano lessons, okay?" Harry tells him, and the beam he gets in reply makes him feel a great deal less awful.

*

Niall Horan was born with a congenital heart condition and a rare blood type. It meant, for brevity's sake, that he had a weak heart. Sometimes had trouble breathing if he exerted himself too much, which lead to the early demise of his football days. He was too prone to attacks, to the occasional faint, and he had a limited enough of a lifespan. He'd had many choices made for him, and he had followed, for his mother's sake, for his father's peace of mind.

But all that energy, he found, was put to better use in music. From the first time he had picked up a guitar and played with the strings,he had found a different purpose.

So while he was here.

After the guitar, everything else followed. The drums, a bit of the violin, a bit of the cello, the piano.

He'd graduated with a degree in Music, magna, batch salutatorian. Named Best Thesis when his original composition for the guitar brought a tear to his adviser's, then panel's, eyes. But in the end, he'd chosen a quiet life, founding and teaching at a small music school in a small town.

Niall found that it suited him incredibly well. Loved his co-workers, his students, the youngest a two year old girl who wanted to smash at the drums, the oldest a seventy-eight year old man who wanted to serenade his wife, even found himself finding several new friends in them and their parents.

It was a good life. Simple, but in no way lacking. Found that he wouldn't spend his time any other way, and with the little time he had, he had nothing to regret and nothing more to wish for.

*

A new lease on life had began after he pushed himself too far.

Just one game, he had said, ignoring the concerned look on Louis's face as he got on the field. He was a walking disaster waiting to happen, with his messed up heart and fucked up knee, but he wanted to do it. Just this one thing, so he went out there and ran and kicked around the ball for the first time in many years, and it felt like flying at first, then it didn't get any better.

After thirty minutes, a few attempted goals and one that actually went in, he had collapsed without any warning. Just dropped to the ground when he found that he couldn't breathe properly anymore, when it became unbearable and his body couldn't take much more and betrayed him.

*

It was unbearably silent in the hospital room.

Niall stares at the people around him. His mum, dad, Louis, Willie, Deo, Greg and Denise, all either stony faced or on the verge of crying, and he wants to yell at the lot of them. Sees Theo looking around as well, so confused because his daddy won't play with him as he tries to catch his attention, pushing his truck on the floor with impatience. Niall knows the feeling.

"Oi," he says, and everyone looks at him, "it's not like it's anything new-"

"Niall, I don't know if you heard the same thing as we did, but the doctor just said you've got _months_ left," Louis says, voice a little hard, but it only ever gets that way when he's really upset and close to breaking down. "Ni, we don't want you to. We don't want you to leave."

"You know, you're going to have to get used to the thought of me not being here," he replies, and it makes his mother flinch. He reaches out to hold her hand, and she squeezes it tightly, letting her tears fall as she sobs. He holds her tighter, and says, "It will happen at one point or another. It will. As much as I don't want it to happen, I will die. But I don't want any time I have left to be full of people trying to coddle me or be overly sensitive or any of that shite. I liked my life. I am determined to continue liking it and living it the way I want to. Alright? For my sake, okay?"

“Okay!” Theo yells from the floor when the silence continues to stretch on, and Niall beams at him, thanks him endlessly in his mind, and Louis eventually acquiesces, mumbling an affirmative and moving to sit next to Niall on the mattress, shoving him over so he can lie down.

“Oi, Tommo, I’m the one with the condition-”

“Shut up, Horan, I want to cuddle,” he snorts, and he snuggles in his arms, and Niall’s about to tease him, when he feels him tremble slightly. Doesn’t mention that he knows that Louis is crying, full on but silent, and hugs him back instead.

It suddenly makes him choke up a little, because he’s resigned to the fact that he hasn’t got much longer. He’d accepted that for the longest time. But the people around him, his best friend, make it really apparent that they haven’t accepted it, and it makes him realize that this isn’t going to affect just him.

*

He's still in the hospital when he hears of it.

He's pretty sure he wasn't supposed to overhear, but the nurses were pretty sullen that day, quite sad and everyone just. Was different.

_"Was on his way to watch his husband-"_

_"He's got a son, barely four years old."_

_"Driver left him for dead-"_

_"He was so young. Had a full life ahead of him."_

"Louis," he says, looking over to where he's hunched over in his seat, phone gripped tightly in his hand as he stares at the floor. "I've been hearing about this accident today. What happened?"

Louis doesn't talk for a long while, and Niall resigns himself to not getting an answer from him before he replies, "David Soutar, hit and run just outside London."

Niall's blood runs cold. "Bailey's dad?"

Louis doesn't say anything in return, just holds his phone tighter.

It's not a terribly big town. Everyone knows everyone, almost. Happiness is something that is shared easily, quickly, as was grief. Seems to hang over everyone no matter how distantly related or however brief the encounter would be. With so little people to share the sadness, it only made sense that it would be so heavy on everyone.

Niall looks at his lap, his legs spread out in front of him on the hospital bed. Grips the sheets tightly because he's never felt quite so useless. Stuck in here when someone he considered a friend, someone he saw so often whenever he would see his son off to piano lessons and pick him up diligently a few hours later. He was gone.

"Where's the wake? Funeral?" he asks, doesn't bother asking 'when' because the doctors will go ballistic, Louis will go ballistic, his parents will go ballistic. He won't get out of here for a while.

"St. Andrew's," Louis answers, gesturing in the general direction of the local church.

"I'd like to send some flowers," Niall says, voice coming out stronger than he feels, and Louis glances at him, eyes glassy with held back tears.

"Okay. I'll get them for you."

*

Niall didn't know what to feel. Didn't quite know on whether to be suspicious, or happy, or. His family, his friends were certainly the latter. Crying tears of joy and what not, kissing him, hugging him as he stayed still on his bed.

"I don't understand," he has to say, staring up at his new doctor. He's young, just about older than him. Incredibly handsome with sharp cheekbones and even sharper eyes, but still kind and warm. Dark and he wouldn't have guessed him to be a doctor.

"You've got a donor," Dr. Malik repeats his previous statement, a small smile on his face. "Someone requested that their heart be given to you specifically."

"But who?"

"It was requested in their will that they remain anonymous, but we've screened the candidate. He's got a clear record, and we've got high hopes."

"But," Niall stutters a bit, not sure on what to say or how to act, still shocked. "I don't know. I don't know."

"Niall, please," his father looks at him, and his eyes are wet. "Please, I want you to live. We all want you to live. This might be your only chance, just take it."

"Things like this don't happen, Da," Niall says quietly, and his heart thumps much faster and much harder, too much honestly. He's too used to keeping it calm, even when he doesn't want to, for his health's sake, but it's impossible at the moment. "Why would I get a heart donor out of the blue? I don't understand, what made me so deserving to have someone want to give me their heart in the first place?"

"You're not completely horrible, Niall," Louis says, trying to joke a little but it falls flat, and he ends up sounding completely serious, and he had not been immune to crying like the rest of the room. "I think you deserve a better chance at life. Someone else seems to think the same way."

"I don't know anything else," Niall says. "I don't know, I never pictured myself living for long. I don't know what to do with another chance. I don't know what I'd be here for."

"The great part of having another chance is that you get to find it," Dr. Malik tells him kindly. "A new lease in life is hard to come by. I completely understand if you wouldn't want to take it, Niall. You wouldn't be the first to think this way. But this chance is rare. It would be a great problem to have, you know. Having to find what else you're here for. Wouldn't you agree?"

Niall looks at him, says quietly, "Not everyone would agree with you on that."

"Yes, that's true, but I have the strongest feeling that you're not the type who wouldn't," he says, small smile on his face and he looks so sure. Looks like he's got Niall figured out, what kind of person he is and what kind of life he wants to live.

He doesn't know. But. He is right.

"Yeah," he says, his heart racing a bit faster, for good reason. "It does sound like a good problem."

*

"I've never felt more betrayed." Louis says with an incredible amount of drama as he watches Daisy yell and jump into Niall's arms, mirroring his beaming face and laughing as she's spun around. "Just when you were beginning to warm up to me, Daisy. Just because the blonde one shows up-"

"Nialler!" she shouts at him, squeezing his cheeks together with her small, quite chubby hands, laughing all the more as Niall blows out a raspberry at her. “Nialler!”

“Daisy!” he says loudly in response, “Did you miss me?”

“Nialler!” she repeats by way of reply, hugging him and saying, “Hi Niall! I missed you! I love you!”

“Missed you too, Daisy-boo,” he hugs her that much tighter, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed. His new heart beats against his chest, still getting used to everything, still not quite accustomed to this new life, but his body’s accepted it incredibly well, according to Dr. Malik. Just a matter of getting Niall used to this new chapter of his life, figure out what to do next. His heart will follow. “Did Louis treat you well? He’s a great piano teacher, yeah?”

“Nialler!” she yells again, and it makes Louis pout and Niall laugh all the more.

“Okay, tiny dancer, ready for your lesson today?” Niall asks her, and she beams, runs to their regular small piano room, one of many, and plops herself down on the bench.

“She’s never that excited when it's me,” Louis says darkly. “I’m really good with kids, what the fuck-”

“She just likes me more, don’t take it personally, Lou,” Niall grins, and it feels like home, being back in Croker’s. First day in and everything’s falling into place, like the last four and a half months were nothing. Like the surgery, the transplant, like recuperating and getting used to the fact that the heart beating in his body currently wasn’t the same unhealthy one he’d been struggling with for forever, like all of that was merely a blip in the greater timeline of his life, and he thinks now, it really was.

“I think she tried to bite my hand once,” Louis tells him, glaring a bit.

“I’ve been her piano teacher for two years, stop being such a twat,” Niall says, chortling a bit as he walks off. “Tell Marv I’m back, yeah? I’ll go and meet Bailey for our session in a couple of hours.”

“Marv’s heart will be broken, he and Bailey have a mutual liking for each other,” Louis mutters as he leaves the area.

“Well, Bailey loves me, so!” Niall yells over his shoulder, laughing, and takes his place next to Daisy on the piano bench, her music book already open to the piano exercises, and when she mirrors his movements on the keys, it feels all that much more real.

New lease on life. Still have got to find that other reason, but for now. This was where he was meant to be.

*

“Hello, Bailey!” a lovely looking lady, great wide smile on her face as she sits behind a the desk at the entrance of the small little music school, greets as they enter, his hand tightening involuntarily around his son’s much smaller hand. “How was your weekend?”

“I’ve been practicing, Roch!” he replies, grinning up at her. “Dad’s been saying I’ve been getting really good!”

“And I believe it!” she replies, smiling at him. She looks at Harry then, smile not diminishing the slightest bit, but somehow looking much more welcoming. It catches him a bit off guard. “You must be Harry. I’m Rochelle.”

“Hello,” he takes her proffered hand and shakes it a bit, and the atmosphere here. It’s like a great wave of warmth had just washed over his body. “It's good to meet you. Sorry that we’re only becoming acquainted now.”

“Oh, nothing to apologize for,” she waves off his apology, still smiling. “Your son is quite the popular one here. Niall won’t ever admit it, but Bailey’s one of his favorite students.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Harry says with a smile, looking down at his son then back to her, catches her expression of fondness.

She turns her attention back to Bailey and her eyes twinkle when she says, sounding like she were having a difficult time holding in her excitement, “Niall’s going to be so glad to see you again.”

“Nialler’s back?!” Bailey gasps, sounding so surprised but so excited and his hand squeezes Harry’s. He can feel him bouncing next to him, like Tigger getting ready to jump up high into the air.

“And what would you do, if I were back?” a new voice joins in, and Bailey squeals, obviously recognizing it, and he lets go of Harry’s hand to run off in its general direction. Harry looks up, and sees his son fling himself into the arms of a kind-looking man, blue eyes brighter than his sunshine hair, smile the brightest of them all, grin wide and happy and so warm.

He feels another shock of warmth, much more intense, much more overwhelming, as he looks at him. Watches Bailey cling on to this person tightly, laughing as he’s lifted off the ground. He doesn’t know how to describe it, but he’s sure. Very sure, that it is a positive feeling. He doesn’t know how to react to it, really.

“Niall!” Bailey says loudly, giggling as he’s put down on the ground gently. “Niall, you’re back! Hi! Hello! I missed you! Where'd you go?”

_“I_ missed you, little man!" Niall tells him, grins at him as he releases him from his hold. "Had to do something for a bit, but I'm back now!"

"Won't leave again, will you?" Bailey asks him, eyes shining a bit as he shows a Niall his best pout.

"No, never, not without telling you first," he says, with the fondest, most honest smile, and Harry is taken aback by its honesty. He's out of his element here, and he's never been really shy or even really bad with people. It's just. It's been a while, and when he'd decided to give his boxing career a chance, David had been the one to be the parent for the both of them. It wasn't an ideal arrangement, but they made it work for some time.

And it's this man. He's just so. Disarming.

"You must be Dad," Niall looks to him then, smile still on his face. Harry blinks at him, confused for a moment, before he realizes he's the one being referred to.

"Yeah, I'm Harry, it's good to meet you," he says, blushing as he holds out his hand for Niall to shake, and he does so smoothly, willingly, without question and a great beam on his face. Slides his palm in to hold his and takes his hand in a firm, but surprisingly welcoming, grip.

"Niall," he introduces himself easily, "Bailey talks about you all the time."

"Yeah?" he says, and he looks down to see Bailey grinning at him, then at Niall, then back at him. “He’s been good, yeah?”

“The best, I always look forward to Tuesdays and Thursdays because of our sessions,” he replies, smiling as Bailey comes forward to attach himself to Niall's side. Hugs him and grins toothily when Niall ruffles his hair. "Plays a great 'When You Look Me In The Eyes.' Gets me every time."

Harry blinks at that. "The Jonas Brothers song?"

"It's my favorite!" Bailey pipes up, smiling up at him. "I made Niall teach it to me!"

"He gets it really quickly as well," Niall says. The smile he gives his son makes Harry choke up, just the slightest bit.

Niall must notice, because he says, "Okay, little man, say bye to your dad for now."

Bailey does so immediately, walking over to Harry and getting up on his toes and reaching out with his arms for him. Harry can't help but think, as he looks at Bailey, with his blonde hair and blue eyes, traits he'd inherited from his mother, that he could easily pass off as Niall's son. It's such a strange thought. Makes him immediately dizzy and confused and too overwhelmed. He snaps out of it, though, leans down to pull him into a tight hug, places a kiss on his forehead, and says softly, "I'll see you later, bud. Have a good lesson."

"Okay!” he replies gamely, happily, before pulling back and kissing Harry’s cheek. Waves to him as Rochelle stands to bring him inside, and Niall and Harry are left behind. And Harry shifts around awkwardly, trying to hold back his weird tears and the weird feeling in his throat and in his stomach and it's all so confusing. So, so strange. He doesn't know what to feel, honestly.

"You've been gone?" he decides to ask, not completely comfortable with the thought of being the one being asked the first question. Steer this conversation away from him, as much as possible.

"Medical emergency," Niall answers without any preamble, still offering him a small smile. "But I'm alright now. Been missing everyone. Bailey's a great kid. Always makes sure to practice before he comes here, always really polite to everyone. Never fails to make me smile. You're raising a great kid."

"Yeah, he's great," Harry swallows, unsure and feeling a great lump in his throat. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry," Niall then says, and _oh no_. Please don't, "About. I don't want to bring up anything that will hurt, but David was always very kind to me. To everyone here, and when we heard-"

"It's okay," Harry says, though the conflicting emotions swirling around in him tell him otherwise. He's still sad, still grieving, still missing his husband, still loving his husband. Still wearing his battle scars quietly, but this man in front of him makes him feel warm, feel safe and it's so strange. He's got such strong feelings, and he can't. It's too soon. Too soon to think about any of this. "I mean, it's not, but we've made do. Me and Bailey, we always will."

"You're doing great," Niall tells him, offers him another smile, and Harry doubts the words immediately. Niall's just met him, he doesn't know him. How can he say any of that.

"Thank you," he says instead, nodding his head a bit and adding awkwardness to the mix of expressions in his gut. "Well, thank you, I'll be back later to pick him up. Thank you for teaching him, he always looks forward to it."

"It's no problem, I love teaching him," Niall tells him, and Harry can't be here for much longer. The warmth and welcoming air overwhelms him, not to the point of suffocation, not at all unpleasant, but he's not used to it.

"Thank you," Harry says again, nods, and turns to leave. "I'll be back later."

"Alright," Niall smiles at him, and he has to go. Walks out the door and tries to forget about blonde hair and ocean blue eyes and sunshine.

It's difficult to the point of being impossible.

*

"Well," Rochelle begins to say as they watch Bailey walk off with his dad, hand in hand, already talking rapidly about how he learned the first few chords to 'Fly With Me' ( _"My other favorite Jonas Brothers song, Nialler!"_ ), "He's well fit."

"Marv-"

"Agrees with his wife," Marvin joins in, peering over their shoulders to stare out the door at the father-son pair. "He boxes, David mentioned, yeah? It really shows."

"Christ," Niall says, shaking his head and he makes to go back to the music hall. "You two, I swear-"

"You would get up on that," Rochelle teases him, follows him. "You think he's fit too-"

"Who? Harry Styles?" Louis then comes in, ushering lovely, old Mrs. Gordon off to her almost toothless husband. She's just graduated from bongos to an actual drum set, been asking to learn ‘Shout It Out Loud’ ever since she signed up for drum lessons, and she’s just about to get to it. "Yeah, saw him in the bakery the other day when I went in to get some of those custard tarts for Brianna. Real quiet though, but the arms on him. He's a good-looking bloke, yeah. You should, Niall-"

" _No_ ," he says firmly, a little disappointed. "No. Fuck's sake, no. He's not ready."

"For what?" Louis says. "You're not making any sense-"

"You could see it in him, if you actually tried," he explains. "He's scared. He's got a child to raise and he has to do it alone now because his husband died. And you know he isn't over that."

"How are you so sure?" Rochelle asks him.

"I'm not," he admits. "But I'm not about to ask him out if he's not ready. He'll do things in his own time. Best the rest of us can do is wait and support him as he does.”

“ _So_ , you do want to ask him out,” Marv teases, the little shit. Niall punches his arm.

“He’s fit, and looks sweet,” Niall says, confirms that _fine_ , Harry is incredibly handsome and he would. Under normal circumstances, maybe, in another life, he would. But circumstances aren’t normal. He’s still getting used to this new vital organ beating in him. Harry’s a widow getting used to this life without David. “But we have to respect whatever he wants to do. No pushing or prodding or teasing, okay?”

“Fine, boss,” Marvin acquiesces, though he doesn’t look that happy about it. Maybe a bit put out. “I’m sorry. we didn’t mean any disrespect. I just don’t like seeing people sad.”

Rochelle is the same. “Wasn’t trying to be insensitive, love. Just teasing. Thought it might be good for the both of you. But there’s something in the way you two looked at each other. I don’t know, maybe I’m just being ridiculous. Just want to see you happy, Niall.”

“I am happy,” he says, almost immediately, and it’s the truth. Definitely not a lie.

“Okay, you know what I meant, but okay,” she acquiesces, smiling at him, before reeling him in to kiss his cheek, and Marvin grins at him, not giving up as easily, and they leave together, hand in hand, and Niall’s given only a moment of reprieve before Louis turns to look at him, eyebrow quirked up and the beginnings of a smirk on his face.

“Don’t lie,” Louis says, flicking at his hair. “You’re attracted to him.”

“It doesn’t matter if I am,” Niall huffs out, because everyone here is ridiculous and have got no sense of boundaries or tact. “Shut it Tommo, be decent-”

“You never let yourself date,” he pouts, “Like, when was the last time you nutted off with someone? Your hand doesn’t count!”

“ _Louis_ , fucking christ,” Niall feels himself turn red, slaps Louis’s hands away when he tries to pinch at his nipples. “I didn’t date before because of the heart thing, you fucking know that, you twat.”

“Well, now that that’s taken care of,” Louis grins, very wide and expecting, “my mate Liam’s got this friend-”

“I know that it’s Harry, you idiot,” Niall snorts, swatting at the back of his head. “Don’t be a twat, Tommo, please. Please, be nice to him.”

When Louis realizes how serious he actually is, his face softens, “Yeah, of course. No one deserves what he’s felt these past few months. Sorry Nialler. Just thought, maybe, that you two-”

“There’s nothing to think about, with the two of us, alright?” Niall says, and it sounds as final as anything will ever be.

*

“How was piano today, bud?” Gemma helps Bailey color in the line art of Flynn Rider in his coloring book, and Harry can tell that she’s struggling with keeping it neat, because Bailey’s so set on not going past the lines, and Gemma’s not like that, never has been.

“Good!” he replies, “Niall’s back! He’s teaching me ‘Fly With Me!’”

“Niall?” repeats, glancing up at Harry with a curious look on her face. “The Irish one?”

“The best one!” Bailey corrects her, beaming. He looks up at him, asks Harry, “May I please have a cookie?”

“Thought you didn’t like my cookies, bud,” Harry tries to pout.

“No! I love them! Please, dad?” Bailey asks, and he ends up being the one pouting, and Harry can’t deny him.

“Okay, but just one, Nana’s making roast chicken for supper and she hates it when your appetite is spoiled,” he says, and he stands to go to the kitchen, fetching him his cookie.

“Why was Niall gone?” Gemma asks him, and Harry didn’t even realize that she had followed him.

“I didn’t even meet Niall before today, I didn’t know he was gone,” Harry replies, taking a cookie from the jar and putting it in the oven toaster because Bailey likes his cookies that way. He gestures over to the fridge, and Gemma wordlessly takes out the carton of milk, pours out a glass. “Said he was gone for an medical emergency, or something. But he was nice. Likes Bailey a lot, treats him well, and I guess that’s what matters.”

“Oh my goodness,” Gemma says, eyes wide as she stares at him. “You think he’s cute.”

“What? How did you deduce that from what I just said?” Harry says, shocked and put off guard. “I- nevermind, how do you even know him?”

“Met him a few times whenever I came with David to pick up Bailey, sometimes,” she answers quickly, waving it off before she says, “You think he’s cute! I thought so too, but he’s made it pretty obvious that he wasn’t into girls, so-”

“Gems, please.”

“You think he’s cute!”

“Fine! Yeah, he’s cute,” he admits, and the strange tightness in his chest is back. Makes him feel light and the slightest bit guilty, all over again. Still too early. He thinks it’s too early. “Don’t make it a thing though, Gemma, please.”

Because she can, Gemma sees right through him. “Sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. At your pace. But, you know, none of us would stop you. We’d be here for any decision you’ll make.”

“And the one I’m making now is for you to not mention it,” he tells her firmly, putting the cookie on a plate and taking the glass of milk from her hands. “At my pace, you said. So I’m setting it.”

“Okay, your pace,” she agrees quietly  following him out the door.

*

"Please bring out the raspberry tarts, love, we're almost out," Emma pokes her head out from up front, and it's not really a rush time of day, but there's been an unusually high amount of customers today. "And the cupcakes Mrs. Ramsey ordered-"

"I’m bringing them out, hold on," Harry tapes the box closed, tying a dark brown ribbon around the Tiffany blue box easily. He balances the box on one hand, a tray with rows of delicate red tarts on the other and makes his way out the door. Emma takes the tray to put on display, and he goes over to Mrs. Ramsey, smiling as he hands over the box, "Here you are, Tara, hope the kids love it."

"I don't doubt it, thank you Harry, dear," she smiles at him, and she's off, and he's got another customer in no time.

It feels like hours before the shop winds down. The surprise rush filtering off slowly, and he must have had served over 50 cupcakes and maybe boxed a hundred tarts, and he loves it here. Loves it even though it's exhausting in a different way, and he waves a goodbye to Mrs. Gordon, who'd bought their entire batch of _canollis_ , a new product they've been trying out. They've been doing just a few trays' worth for the past few weeks, but with the way she's been getting at them.

The bell above the door signaling a new customer rings, and he sets a small smile on his face, looks up to greet them, but when he sees ocean blue and sunshine, the words leave him, the wave of warmth rushing over him again.

"Hi Harry," Niall greets him instead, a smile on his face, and he looks so cozy, so warm, beanie perched on his head and hands stuffed into his coat pocket. Harry feels the urge to hug him.

"Hello," he says quietly, blushing a bit. "How are you?"

"I'm alright, hungry though," he laughs a bit, looks at the display of pastries and desserts. "Louis said this place was good, but I don't quite know what to get."

"Celebrating anything?" he asks, stumbles over the words a bit as he tries to go the ought the routine customer questions.

"A birthday," Niall replies, looking up then and his eyes scrunch a bit. It makes Harry swallow. Gulp a little nervously.

"A friend's? Family member's? Significant other's?" he doesn't know what he's doing. Just can't stop staring at him, tries to be mechanical with his motions, but.

“Mine, actually,” Niall murmurs, a small, secret smile on his face, and Harry cannot help but mirror it.

“Oh, happy birthday,” he greets him quietly, tucks away the fond look he gets in reply to the back of his mind.

“Thank you,” Niall says, “this one is special, too. Thought I might get myself something really indulgent, but I don’t- hey. Actually, what’s your favorite thing on the menu?”

“Mine?”

“Yeah, you look like you know your shit here,” Niall grins at him, and Harry has to fight not to close his eyes, feeling overwhelmed again. “What do you like here?”

“I don’t know if you’ll like it, it’s an experimental thing,” he says, decides to give this a try, see if it will do anything, and Niall just smiles that much wider.

“Something new, then. What is it?”

“Well, it’s this Swiss roll thing, but we use meringue instead of sponge cake,” Harry says, blushing a bit as he describes the dessert. “And for filling, it’s got a sweet, thick custard. It might be a little sweet, though-”

“Oh, so like _Brazo de Gitano_?” Niall queries, and Harry wasn’t expecting that, at all.

Blinks a little, then says shyly, “Maybe more like _Brazo de Reina_ , but yeah, something along those lines.”

Niall’s smile seems to widen, and he says, “Love them Hispanic desserts, sounds perfect. I’ll have three slices, yeah?”

“Are you sure?” Harry asks, still blinking.

“You said it’s your favorite,” Niall answers. “I trust your judgement.”

“We’re still trying different recipes, it’s not quite there-”

“Great, then, I’ll be your taste-tester,” Niall grins, brings out his wallet and stares him down, until Harry’s moving to pull out the preferred dessert roll, slightly cool from being on the refrigerated display, and he cuts three slices, takes careful care to pack them perfectly.

Niall’s got the money ready when Harry returns with his purchases, and lays it on the counter, but Harry shakes his head, saying, “It’s your birthday, it’s on the house-”

“It’s alright, I’m more than willing to pay for it.”

“No,” Harry pushes back the money towards him, shaking his head and trying to not get flushed out. He feels warm all over, hopes that his blush isn’t too bad. “Please, bakery policy. We don’t make customers pay on their birthday.”

“Fine, I won’t pay for my slice, but for the other two,” he leaves some money, and grabs one of the boxed slices, and turns to leave quickly, before Harry can protest.

“Wait, your cakes,” Harry calls after him, and Niall laughs just as he’s walking out the door.

“For you and Bailey! Have a good day!” And he’s gone, running out of the store and Harry left at the counter with notes still on the counter and the two slices of the meringue roll beside them.

“Oh, lovely,” Barbara muses as she comes in, fond smile on her face as she takes in Harry’s stunned, blushing expression. She takes the money, pushes the cakes towards him, and says over her shoulder as she walks off, “Looks like somebody likes you, love. And your new meringue cake roll, too.”

*

“Did you like my dad’s cake?” is the first thing Bailey asks Niall after Harry’s dropped him off the next Thursday, small smile on his face when he sees Niall come greet them. Makes his heart beat a bit faster, makes him feel the slightest bit happier. Strange.

“What?” Niall says, confused as he and Bailey settle on the piano bench in one of the small rooms, and he brings out the notes for ‘Fly With Me.’ “Your dad made the cake that I bought?”

“Uh huh,” Bailey replies, taking out his book for piano exercises, handing it over to Niall so they can review. He’s bouncing in his seat, goes on to say, “He’s been trying out different recipes, and he tried that one when he saw it on the internet. He’s too shy to actually ask you if you liked it, but I know he wants to ask. And thank you for the slice, too! He never lets me have cake from the bakery, says I get enough sweets at home.”

“Yeah, with him as your dad, I wouldn’t question it,” he smiles at the thought, and he answers Bailey’s question. “I loved the cake. Sweet and unexpected. Tell him thank you, yeah?”

“Okay!” Bailey replies, and he starts playing the first exercise.

*

Niall becomes something of a regular at the bakery. Harry still sees him whenever he drops Bailey off for his music lessons, but those are fleeting visits. Their focus is on his son, as it should be. Still steals a glance and gives a smile, receives one in turn, but it's quick, never quite enough. But Niall comes to visit the bakery every other day, somehow looking cozier and cozier every time he comes in to buy whatever Harry suggests for him that day, and he never fails to buy two extra orders, always running out before Harry can protest and refuse the gifts.

Each time, he gets more used to the warmth in his chest, spreading all over him and making him look forward to Niall's visits, despite every apprehension, despite every _too soon too soon_ his mind tries to supply him with. He looks forward to seeing his smile, his eyes, looks forward to having Niall's impossibly lovely atmosphere.

He cannot help but be smitten, and it makes him feel the slightest bit guilty, very confused, but above all, happy. Strangely enough, happy. Excited and.

The bruises and the hurt and the injuries. They don't make him hurt as much.

*

"You look well, Harry," Liam comments when Harry comes in for an afternoon session.

It's not that he's never come in for training at this time, though he prefers early morning, but lately, he hasn't been going at all. Been too busy with the bakery every morning, trying to get an earlier shift so he can take his break sooner, bring Bailey to school, then after his shift, go pick him up, and bring him to Croker's if it's a Tuesday or Thursday. Pick him up a few hours later and make supper while trying to help Bailey with homework or play audience whenever he practices whatevrr Niall's taught him for the day on the home piano, and he's exhausted. Starts to feel the pressure of being a single parent more than ever. Realizes how hard this is, and as crude and selfish as it might sound, makes him miss David all that much more. Wishes he were here, that he didn't have to do this all alone. That he didn't have to go through this life alone.

He had to take a break. So, he had dropped Bailey off to piano, and gone here. Just for a while, until his head got a little clearer and the bruises and aches in his muscle distract him. Just for a while.

"Cheers, Payno," he says, makes to do his regular circuit. As he gets down to the ground and begins to do burpees to start himself off, it relieves him, almost. The routine of it. "Sorry I haven't been around, so much going on."

"You know I get it, Haz," he replies. "I'm a little surprised you came back at all. Wouldn't be offended if you stopped. You said you were."

"Stop _fighting_ , not this other stuff," Harry mutters, concentrating on his squat thrusts. "Been ingrained in me, I can't just quit. And I'd miss you too much, Liam."

"You charmer, you," Liam grins at him, watches him get his back in the floor and start doing crunches. "Bailey okay? You?"

"Bailey's amazing, I'm doing okay," he gives short answers, his core and arms and legs beginning to ache, in that satiated way that a good workout can. Gives him honest words, because Liam's never liked it when he ever even attempts to give him bullshit. And he deserved the truth, so. "Been coping. It's been fine. I haven't really got anything to complain about, so."

"That's good," Liam says, and Harry can hear the beginnings of a tease in his voice. Dreads it, but funnily enough, gets a tingling feeling in his gut, all the same. "I've heard through Louis that you've met Niall?"

"You know Niall?" Harry mutters, his muscles burning. "Why does everyone want me to meet Niall-"

"I know him, gave me a beginner's guide on songwriting, when I was trying to come up with my proposal song for Soph," he replies, fond smile in his face. "He's a good lad. Think you're the only person here that hasn't met him."

"I realize now that I think I am actually the last person to have met him," Harry says, huffing a bit as he goes about his routine. Been a month or so since he's exerted this much, and it's beginning to become extremely apparent to him. "What is it with everyone teasing me about him?"

Liam goes a bit quiet at that, doesn’t say anything for a minute or so, eventually says, “A lot of people think that maybe, the two of you. What with everything that’s happened.”

“What do you mean?” Harry asks, genuinely not following. He’s so confused, honestly.

“You don’t know? Niall- nevermind,” Liam cuts himself off, shaking his head.

“Wait, no, what about him?” Harry asks, curious now, but Liam shakes his head still.

“It’s not my place to tell, sorry,” he says, and it frustrates Harry a little bit. Everyone around him is always so shifty and they’re always acting too carefully around him one moment and teasing him and having fun at his expense on the next. It’s annoying. “I don’t know. People just think the two of you would get along well. That’s all.”

“He’s cute,” Harry mumbles, deciding not to beat around the bush or try to hide anything about what he feels. It shocks Liam, makes Harry the slightest bit smug as he watches Liam fumble a bit from where he was jumping rope. “Like, the personification of sunshine, really.”

“Bailey likes him?”

“Loves him, won’t stop talking about him,” he answers, feeling so fond, even more so, at the thought of his son and his piano teacher, getting along together so well. Meaks him feel so inexplicably happy and warm.. “I’ve got to tell him to stop agreeing to teach him Jonas Brothers songs, though. They’re still going through ‘Lines, Vines, and Trying Times.’ Can’t let them go to the next album, hated that one-”

“Slander, Harry,” Liam mutters, handing over his rope as Harry gets up from the ground. “Disrespecting ‘Pom Poms’.”

“I draw the line at ‘What Did I Do to Your Heart,’” Harry mutters, huffing as he begins to jump the rope. “But he’s great with him. Like, doesn’t even question it. Loves spending time with him. It’s. I don’t know.”

“Nice?” Liam tries to supply, but Harry shakes his head slightly, gives him a small smile.

“That doesn’t quite do it justice,” he says, and just as he says it, two men enter the gym, rather burly, built but not very tall, too dressed to work out.

“Hello, gentlemen” Liam stands, goes over to them to greet them properly. “How may I help you?”

“We were looking for your friend, actually,” one of the men says, a kind expression on his face, leans forward to shake Liam’s hand as he eyes Harry. “I’m Paul, Paul Higgins. This is Mark Jarvis, we’re from-”

“‘Front Row,’” Harry finishes for him, pausing to look at them. “I’ve been boxing for years, I know who you are.”

“So you must know that we’re interested in you, Mr. Styles,” the man names Mark says, glancing over to him. “We’ve heard many things. If you’re interested-”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude,” Harry says, putting aside the rope and gaetting his gloves, “but I’m not actually looking to fight,  not anymore.”

“Are you sure?” Paul then asks him, watches as Harry moves up to the ring, bends to enter with Liam following close behind him. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve got quite a right hook. You’re fast, agile. Been hearing many things for many years, and-”

“It’s too late now,” Harry says, though he feels otherwise. He’s been waiting for this kind of opportunity for years. He knows that Bailey will always come first, but this chance. He’d been wiaiting for it for so long, and he doesn’t know what to do. Knows he should turn these men away, but. “I’m sorry, if you haven’t heard, but there’s been a change in my plans.”

“We have heard, and we’re sorry,” Paul tells him as he and Mark come to the side of the ring. “And we understand your priorities. But we’ve come such a long way to see you, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Harry does, but. He is not a rude person, he has manners, and this place isn’t easy to get to. “Alright. But I haven’t been fighting for a while. I might not be what you’ve come to see, not anymore.”

“Would be a privilege, either way,” Mark says, stands beside Paul as Harry gets into position, Liam preparing the pads to have Harry hit him.

Harry eyes them both, sees what he’s been working towards for so many years of his life, what he’d sacrificed his time, time that could have been spent with his family, his son, his husband, and he doesn’t know anymore. Doesn’t know what to do, .doesn’t know what to feel or what to tell them.

So he just fights.

*

He walks into the house, exhausted and his muscles aching like they haven’t in months, and he deposits his things on the couch as he makes his way to the kitchen.

“Oh, hello Harry,” his mother looks surprised as he gives her a kiss on the cheek, takes her mug of tea and takes a long sip from it. “You’re back a little late-”

“Went to the gym,” he replies, indulging himself and taking a cookie from the jar on top of the fridge. “There were these guys from Front Row who came by, watched me train and spar for a bit. I don’t think I’ve ever worked myself so hard.”

“Were you showing off for them?”

“I don’t know, I know I’m not looking to fight anymore, but it felt nice, seeing them impressed,” he replies, chewing through his cookie in a few quick bites.

“That’s great, love,” she says, giving him a small smile. “So, where's Bailey? Did he watch you along with them?”

“What?” he mutters. “He’s got piano-”

“I know, but that’s been over for hours,” she says, confused. “You picked him up before you went to train, right? Or-”

_Oh. Oh fuck._

He doesn’t say anything. Just runs out of the kitchen and back out the door, runs to the garage and goes to start his car.

“Shit, shit, _shit_ ,” he mutters, trying to get his keys out of his pocket, but his hands keep fumbling and they’re slightly asleep and he wants to hit himself. Forgetting his son just because some promoters or some shit have come over to watch him box. He can’t be much more of a twat than he is now.

“Fuck, stupid, stupid, you piece of-”

“Dad?”

He almost snaps his neck when he turns at the voice. Feels relief flood him when Bailey stares back, eyeing him curiously, hand clasped tightly in Niall’s. Niall looks at him too, stays quiet and his face is blank, offering only Bailey a smile when his son turns to grin at him, wordlessly asking for permission for something. It seems like it’s been given, because Bailey runs over to Harry, hugging him and jumping to hold him around his middle.

Harry stands still for a moment, glances up to see Niall smiling warmly at him, makes him feel a little bit more alive, and he moves to kneel down, gather his son up in his arms and hold him tight, close to him, murmurs quietly, “Hi bud, I’m sorry-”

“Dad, you stink again,” Bailey says, hugging him around the neck as Harry holds him. It makes Harry choke on his words, hug him tighter. Kiss his temple, mumbling apologies that make Bailey give him confused looks.

"He learned a bit of ‘Yellow’ today,” Niall chooses that moment to say, and Harry glances up at him. Sees the kind look on his face, much more understanding than he deserves. “Said it was one of your favorites, so.”

“It is,” he confirms, keeping his voice low. He pulls back from the hug, and he clears his throat, trying to hold his tears back, and says to Bailey, “Hey bud, Nana’s inside, maybe you could have a cup of tea with her?”

“Tea,” he makes a face at it, and Harry tries to smile, boops his nose.

“Sorry. Hot chocolate,” he amends, and Bailey smiles at that. Leans up to kiss his cheek before running into the house.

Harry straightens up, smile gone from his face, and he looks to Niall, who is still looking at him kindly.

“Thank you for bringing him home, I. I was indisposed,” he says, feeling shame in his veins, but Niall shakes his head, says, “It was no trouble, I live along the way.”

“I’m sorry,” he says again, this time to Niall, because he he feels so utterly useless, like he can’t honestly do anything right nowadays, and Niall still waves him off, coming a bit closer.

“It’s okay. Had a great few extra hours with him, so we thought we’d branch out into Coldplay,” Niall tells him, looking so warm and welcoming and Harry wants to hug him. Wants to see if a hug from Niall Horan can make him feel the slightest bit better, but he refrains. Gives him a weak smile instead, and he knows it doesn’t do much to let Niall know he’s okay, but it will have to do.

“Thank you, again,” he says, awkwardly. “This was so kind of you.”

“It really was no trouble,” Niall says, and much to Harry’s surprise, he brings him in for a short hug. It’s not much, but when Niall reels him in, tucks his face in Harry’s neck as his arms hold him in a hug, it makes him sob a little. Tries to make it as inaudible as possible, but it’s like he’s heard anyway. He’s held tighter, and he hides the noises in Niall’s shirt, and he lets himself be comforted.

The hug. It does make him feel better, but he wonders if it’s just Niall.

*

“Hey, here’s your chocolate, Bailey,” Harry says, handing over a warm cup over to his son, who beams as he thanks him, and bounces in his seat as he takes his first sip. He’s just finished his homework, having started it in Croker’s, and they’re just about to watch ‘Up’ at his request, and Harry looks at him, really looks.

His hair is bright, shiny, mimics Cara’s own locks, blonde but sometimes looking the slightest bit brown, as if it were wanting to make a shift. His eyes are blue, but they’re much closer to the color of a clear blue day, vivid and with the promise of sun, rather than the stormy, intense blue that his mother is known for. Both beautiful shades, but very, very different. Bailey isn't his, biologically, but he’s got his nose. His red lips, full and always in a smile. Rosy cheeks, soft like a marshmallow, and pale skin.

He’s got a bit of a chin, though. Makes Harry the slightest bit speechless, because he has a feeling it will turn into a little butt chin as he gets older. Much like Niall’s, hopefully.

“Are you mad at me, bud?” he has to ask, his voice soft as he waits for his son to answer him. He doesn’t think he’s ever been so nervous, so scared.

Bailey looks at him, a small frown on his face, and he says slowly, “No. No, dad, I’m not.”

“Are you sure?”

Bailey shakes his head, pauses as he takes a moment to think, then nods, very enthusiastically, saying, “Yes, I’m sure. Nialler helped me with my homework and we tried learning your favorite song! It’s kinda hard, though.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it, bud,” Harry tells him, and though he’s already assured him, his son’s words don’t make him feel that much better. He pushes his feeling aside, though, and brings Bailey over to his lap, hugs him again, and tells him, so earnestly, “I’m sorry for not picking you up, it won’t happen again.”

“It’s alright,” Bailey says softly, hugging him back.

They're both quiet for a bit, just holding each other, when Bailey mentions quietly, "You really should take a bath, though-"

"What was that, I can't hear you?" Harry mutters, hugging him even tighter, and he squeals, squirming as he tries to get out of his dad's hold.

*

"Oh, good afternoon, Harry," Rochelle greets him, looking a little confused as he enters the lobby, and he smiles in reply.

"Hi, Rochelle," he says, "Is Niall free?"

"Niall?" she looks even more perplexed, but she gives him a nod, tells him, "Um. I'm quite sure that he doesn't have any more appointments today. Would you like me to fetch him for you?"

"If you wouldn't mind," he says, smiling, and she's off, leaving to look for Niall, and Harry steels himself. Tells himself repeatedly not to bolt off, not to wuss out and do this properly.

Tells himself that a proper thank you was needed, and that this wasn't anything much more than that. Tells himself that he cannot fall apart any more than he has, even though Niall makes him feel more alive, like the wounds and the bruises and his battered heart don't hurt as much when he's around him. Makes him feel like he can be just a little bit more vulnerable in front of him, and he's had his full already, surely. He has cried into his shoulder, probably not the greatest impression to leave.

"Hello, Harry," he hears; turns to see Niall come in, Rochelle trying to go unnoticed behind him, a badly hidden smirk on her face as she settle back behind her desk. “Bailey doesn’t have a session today.”

“I know,” he mutters, forces himself to get the next words out. “I, um, I was actually looking for you.”

“Oh,” he says, and Harry tells himself not to fool himself into thinking that the slight blush in Niall’s complexion was caused by him. “Okay, well, I’m free now, if that’s alright.”

“More than,” he says, smiling, tries to get him at ease though he feels like he’s about to explode as well.

*

"I wanted to thank you for bringing Bailey home yesterday," he gets right into it, doesn't pause for anything because he knows he'll lose his nerve. "That was so nice of you.”

“It was nothing,” Niall says as they settle into the corner table, coffees warm in their hands as they wait for Niall’s cinnamon bun, Harry’s muffin. “It's not a hardship, to be with that kid."

"Yeah, know the feeling," Harry swallows, tries to get a grip on himself. "I'm sorry again that you had to walk him home."

"Really, Harry, it was no trouble," Niall assures him, smiling when their food is served to them, and he thanks the server quietly.

Harry's heart races, and he blurts out, for some reason, "I was at the gym, yesterday."

"Oh?" Niall muses around a mouthful of bun. "You box, yeah? People have mentioned, said you were good. If you don't mind me saying, David's said that you should have been discovered years ago-"

"That's the thing," he says, feeling an unpleasant spike of _'not good enough'_ run through him, take over him. "I didn't pick Bailey up because I. I got carried away. There were these two guys from Front Row, top boxing promoters, who came by. Who have heard about me, and they watched me train for a bit."

"Oh, Harry, that's amazing," Niall tells him earnestly, smiling widely, and it makes Harry want to cry.

"No, you don't understand," he says, shaking his head, "I. I got carried away. I forgot to pick up Bailey because I was there. I forgot to pick up my son."

"Oh," Niall says quietly, putting down the cup he was about to drink from, but he doesn't say anything else.

Harry feels himself turn red, shocked and disappointed when heat and tears fill his eyes, making them sting and he blinks to try to stave them off, but. "I. I'm sorry, I didn't. I don't know. I don't know. Ever since David died, I've felt like everything's just compounded on me and I love Bailey, I'd do anything for him, but. I feel like all I've done so far is fail him. I don't know how to be a good parent."

He pauses, the tears falling and he presses the heel of his hand to try to stop the rest, but they keep falling. His breath hitches, and it takes everything not to break out in a full out sob.

"I don't know. When they saw me, when they said how good I was, it felt good. But it didn't have anything on how awful I felt when I realized that I forgot to pick Bailey up from piano lessons. I. I'm. I can't. I'm an awful father, I'm his only parent left and I can't even do it properly. I'm such a fucking mess, I can't. I'm so scared. I'm so scared."

He finally admits it, and it's not lost on him that the person he's admitting it to is Niall, someone he barely knows, someone he'd just recently met. Of all people.

Niall stays quiet, and Harry already knows what he's thinking. Wants to stand and leave because he wants to save him the trouble of finding nicer words so he doesn't sound so mean when he tells him off, but Niall speaks before he can even excuse himself.

"Well, they told me you were brave, but I'm only realizing just how much," he says quietly, and he's smiling at Harry, and he doesn't understand.

He stares at Niall blankly, freezing when he leans over, wiping at Harry's tears with a handkerchief he procures from his pocket.

"I. What do you mean?" Harry mumbles, taking the handkerchief so Niall can lean back again. Wipes at his cheeks and feels so embarrassed, but Niall's not looking at him at him any differently. Actually. Maybe fonder.

"You're a single dad, Harry. You're allowed to be scared and make mistakes," Niall says, sounding so sure of what he's saying. "It doesn't make you a bad parent. I've seen you with Bailey. You're anything but."

Harry doesn't understand. Looks down at his uneaten panini and he can't look up at Niall, saying these things about him when he doesn't really deserve it.

"I'm not David," he says, his words softening because he can't say much more without crying again. "I. I don't know how to be the kind of father he was. The good kind."

"You're not a bad father just because you aren't like your husband," Niall tells him, and he's still got that soft, fond look on his face. "No one is asking you to be, especially not your son."

"I don't know how to take care of him," he says.

"I doubt anybody who becomes a mum or dad really knows what they're doing at first. You've got to learn as you go," he says, shrugging a bit. "The part that makes you a good parent is when you actually try. Try and learn from your mistakes, treat him well, love him and show that to him. You certainly do that."

"Love can only get you so far."

"Very far."

"But not far enough," Harry days, grits his teeth because he isn't good enough. "Yesterday, it doesn't mean much to you because you think it was okay, because you were there to walk him home, because no harm done, right? But what if you weren't there? What if I forget to pick him up again, but no one's there to help him? Or what if- fuck. Niall, I'm his dad. I'm supposed to remember all of this stuff."

"You've apologized, and he's forgiven you," he says, tries to assure him. "He's not mad at you, Harry."

"I can't even remember to give him Coco Pops, I almost always give him my cereal instead," he huffs, feeling worse with every word. "I don't want to be a bad father to him."

"Then don't," Niall says, and his voice is still soft, still gentle, but his words are firm. "You've made the choice not to be a bad dad, and you've shown this far that you aren't one. You love Bailey, you work so hard to be there for him. No one will fault you for being a little tired, for messing up a little. As long as Bailey knows that you're trying, that he will come first before everything else, then how you be a dad isn't anyone's business but yours."

Harry feels overwhelmed at the words, feels even more choked up, and he chooses to look at Niall then. Feels so exposed and vulnerable under the soft gaze, the blue in his eyes making him feel safe and warm and it makes him want to cry, all over again, but for better reasons.

"Bailey loves you," Niall tells him, voice even softer than his eyes. "Not one bad word about you. Always says how proud he is to have a father like you. You should hear him, says how you work so hard and how much he loves you and how much you love him. If anyone should be the judge of how you are as a dad, it should be him, right?"

He can't take it, then. He has to cry, has to let his tears fall because. He doesn't know. He doesn’t, just lets the words comfort him, even the slightest bit, doesn’t really accept it, but he hears them, listens to them, tries to understand.

Niall offers his hand silently across him, and he takes it, grips it tightly and allows him to be an anchor.

Maybe lets himself believe, a little. Because his son thinks so, because the man in front of him thinks so.

*

“Ayyyy, morning, Barbara,” Niall greets, grinning as she blows a kiss over her shoulder as she makes her way to the back kitchen, and he walks over to the counter, asks Emma, “Morning-”

“Harry will be out in a minute, love, he’s just icing the cupcakes for a delivery,” she says, giving him a little smirk as Niall feels himself get a little flushed.

“ _Emma_ ,” he tries to sound scandalized, offended, “Why would you- _Emma_. As if I’d pass up a chance to talk to you-”

“Don’t hold your breath, lover boy, he’s coming,” she deadpans, but winking all the same, and he blushes full on now, and he rocks back on his feet as she stalks off, feeling himself turn red, to the very tips of his ears.

“Good morning,” he hears the slow, low drawl, and he finds himself grinning even before he looks up at the face. Harry beams back, and he thinks how wonderful he looks when he smiles widely, such an endearing grin and the dimples that make his heart race that much faster. Like his heart, it has a different beat whenever he sees Harry. Feels more at home.

“Hello,” he greets, smiles. “You look well.”

“I’ve had a good rest,” Harry confirms with a nod. “Had a Pixar night, last night. Bailey fell asleep to Toy Story 3, the traitor. Left me to cry all by myself.”

“Not to be trusted, that one,” Niall replies. “So! What have you got for me to try, today?”

“Well, it seems like I’ve run out of recipes. You’ve tried them all,” Harry says, frowning a bit.

“ _No_.”

“I’m afraid so,” he continues. “I’m surprised I haven’t run out earlier, That must have been months’ worth of experimentation-”

“Oh, _no_ ,” he bemoans the lack of dessert dramatically, earning laughs from the ladies who’re going about their business. “What will I do, for my daily rush of sugar-”

“Eat some chocolate.”

“Well, that’s no fun,” Niall pouts at him, “I always looks forward to your stuff."

"Well, there is this one thing," Harry says, and Niall doesn't point out the pink spreading in his cheeks, the way his smile had suddenly turned shy. "It's called an _île flottante_. Basically a really light poached meringue, served with a vanilla custard, only this version, mango and caramel are infused in the vanilla. It's amazing, I just discovered it the other week."

"Well, that sounds amazing," Niall says, and it really does. Can't wait to taste it himself. "So, you gonna let me try it?"

"Um, I'm not the one who makes it. I found it in 'Karina's', you know, the small restaurant close to the church?"

"Yeah, heard of it, but I've never been there," Niall replies, confused. "So. Is Karina teaching you her recipe, or-"

"No," Harry immediately shakes his head, and he blushes all the more. Says quietly, "I was hoping. If you'd like. I could take you there, have you try it. Maybe have dinner before. You know. Just us."

Niall goes quiet at that, because if he didn't know any better, he'd think Harry was asking him out on a date.

Wait. "You mean. Like, a date?"

Harry let's out a small laugh, then nods, "Yeah, actually. I'd quite like to take you out. How about it?"

Niall feels himself turn pink all over, the beating of his heart going into overdrive. "I. Yeah. I'd love to."

*

Niall is beautiful, is the first thing he thinks when Niall smiles at him from the door, hair looking so soft, smile easy and warm, and it overwhelms him the best way. Feels another rush of warmth all over him. Safety and excitement and everything he never thought he’d feel again, all in one person.

“Hi,” he exhales as Niall sits down across him, wants to touch him, hold his hand, but he refrains and settles for a soft smile to mirror the one on Niall’s face. “You’re gorgeous.”

The words slip out of him, and he blushes as he realizes his mistake, sees Niall turn pink as well, but says a quiet, “Thank you. You’re quite stunning as well.”

“Oh,” he says, turning even redder, and he doesn’t know if he’s ever felt more. More, than he has, in this moment. “Thank you.”

Niall grins at him, offers out his hand, very much like the day he broke down in front of him, and the motion makes him so inexplicably happy. He slides his palm into his, and grasps tight, and the touch immediately comforts him. He’s not so nervous now, feels relaxed and he actually doesn’t know why he was so scared in the first place.

Niall laughs then, sounding much more apprehensive than he looks, and says as he ruffles up his hair, “I don’t quite know what to do, now.”

“Neither do I,” Harry admits. "It's been years since I've been on a date with someone who wasn't David. Actually, even when he was still alive, when we got married, we didn't go on very many dates. Just for special occasions, and all."

"I've, uh," Niall tries to explain, laughing a bit nervously, "I don't think I've ever been on a real date? I mean, the stuff that comes after a date, yeah, but not really a proper date."

"What?" Harry is confused, looks at Niall curiously. "Why not?"

"I've never really let myself have that option, to go on dates and everything," he replies, shrugging a bit. Flushes when he goes on to add, "Be in relationships, that kind of thing. I've- um. Health-wise, I was never really great. So. I kind of had to make some sacrifices in my life. Couldn't let someone else have to share the burden with me, it was enough that my family and Louis and my friends had to deal with it, couldn't make anyone else have to live with it."

"Niall," he says softly, but Niall just smiles at him, shakes his head because he knows what Harry's thinking.

"It wasn't all that bad, and to be honest, it's not like this could handle it," Niall gestures to his chest, and Harry realizes he's pointing to his heart. "I mean, technically, being in love wouldn't really do anything to it medically. But. Extreme emotion, excitement, all of that, it makes this work much harder than it's supposed to."

"So when you had a medical emergency-"

"Was to maybe fix this," he says, giving him another easy, private smile, and it makes Harry warm from the inside out. "And. Well, it worked, I guess."

"I'm glad it did," Harry tells him, never been so honest. "I'm. I'm really, really glad."

Niall looks at him, and the gaze makes Harry a little nervous, a little giddy, with how earnest and fond it is, makes him blush all the more.

"So am I," Niall tells him, and Harry feels his heartbeat quicken. Feels his affection grow into something much more, and it overwhelms him to the point of losing his words.

"You owe me a dinner," Niall says when Harry's been quiet for too long, leaning forward slightly to poke at his dimple, and it's so unexpected that he laughs, a little louder than he'd like, but Niall laughs with him, and it feels so normal, like this is where he’s supposed to be. He revels in it.

*

The next date isn’t actually planned.

He’d gone to Croker’s, thinking of picking Niall up so he could make him some dinner at home, but the skies disagreed and it began pouring rain, hard and relentless, and leaving them stranded in the music school.

So Niall brought them over to the private room. And, in a turn of events. Began playing for him, sampling all the different instruments he knows, playing ‘Yellow’ in full for him on the guitar as he sang softly, blushing when Harry tells him how his voice was incredible, because it really was.

Soft and a little raspy, with the most pleasant tone that he wouldn’t mind listening to for as long as he’s allowed.

He blushes in turn when Niall tells him how his voice was lovely as well, doesn’t realize he’d been singing along to ‘Til Kingdom Come,’ and he doesn’t know why, it’s too low and rough but Niall says he loves it like that, moves closer when Harry shakes his head and kisses him sweetly on his cheek.

He’s frozen on the spot, doesn’t know how to react, then Niall grins at him easily, thumbing at the spot he’d just kissed and watching as Harry’s skin turns pink.

“Maybe it’s good that it rained, yeah?” Niall had told him, face really close and what Harry would give, to have the balls to close the gap and kiss him properly. “Perfect second date. So lovely.”

*

It begins to happen more often. The visits in the morning to the bakery, where the ladies tease them for the shy flirting and compliments, and the afternoon visits to Croker’s when Bailey doesn’t have a piano lesson, where then Louis, Rochelle, Marvin, and the rest of the staff all smirk and wink whenever Niall, blushing, would walk Harry over to a private room so they can talk and make music together. Sometimes, they even let Bailey join in after he’s done with his lessons, and it’s an atmosphere that Harry finds himself loving. Quiet, soft and warm in the way only Niall has ever made him feel.

One particular instance, when they were waiting out the thunderstorm with a medley of Hanson songs, when Harry catches the fond, loving gaze Bailey and Niall give each other as they ‘MMMBop’ed together as Niall played the melody on his guitar, it made his breath catch in his throat, his eyes suddenly burn as the onslaught of gratitude and love overtake him, that he’d found someone who would make him feel this way.

Almost everyday, they find, they walk home together, starting off as a little accident. Bailey had to go back, saying he’d forgotten his homework in the piano room, and when they’d returned to Croker’s to retrieve it, Niall had been walking out the door, looked at them and given them a grin as he held up the papers with the numbers scribbled all over them. So the three of them had walked home, Niall and Harry on either side of Bailey, his small hands clasped in theirs and keeping the three of them connected as he babbled on about his day and what he was going to do when he got home, seemingly oblivious to the glances his dad and his piano teacher exchange, each looking away with a blush high on the apples of their cheeks. It happens the next day, then the day after that, and. Just becomes a regular thing, routine that he finds himself looking forward to the end of the day.

It makes him dizzy, with how much like a family they feel like.

*

“So Mr. Grimshaw said that he and Pig,” Bailey giggles as he tells his story of the dog named ‘Pig’ nd his adventures with his owner, who happens to be Bailey’s teacher with the big hair and limbs that are much too long. “They went out on a walk the other day when it started raining like mad, his poor hair went all flat all over his face and Pig just ran around barking and he made Mr. Grimshaw fall in the mud-”

He laughs loud, pulling at Harry’s and Niall’s hands to try to make them go faster as they take their usual walk home, but neither really wanted to. Just wanted to enjoy each other’s company, and Niall really does think this is the best part of his day.

“-So that’s why he was all dirty and a mess when he came into class!” Bailey finishes, much too pleased, laughing again. “Pig came in running after him as well, so dirty! Made everyone so messy, haha-”

“That explains the mud on your trousers,” Harry mutters, and his son just laughs harder, squirming away when Harry leans over to ruffle at his hair and try to lift him into the air with the one arm. Niall grins, catching on and raising the hand he’s holding on to as well so that Bailey’s lifted into the air for a fleeting moment, and he’s laughing louder than ever as he’s off the ground.

“Took me hours to get it off, you cheeky,” he says, grinning as Bailey just pouts in apology.

“Sorry,” he says in reply, pout emphasized as he faces Harry, still holding on to Niall’s hand on his other side.

“Still a handsome one, though,” Niall says, smoothing back the blonde locks Harry had just messed up, and Bailey beams up at him.

“You’re my favorite,” he declares with an adoring look at him, and he mirrors it in return. The feeling is very mutual, as far as Niall is concerned.

“Heyyyyy,” Harry says, and he pouts at Bailey, “I’m your dad.”

“Well, it’s going to be obvious that you’re my favorite,” he says, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. “But Nialler is my favorite, too!”

“Yeah? Like your dad?” Niall asks him.

“Yeah! Like dad! You’re like my other dad now!”

The declaration makes Niall a little breathless. Makes him involuntarily hold Bailey’s hand a little tighter, makes his heart beat crazily fast, so fast he almost can’t keep up with it. Looks up, glances at Harry and sees him with the softest, most adoring look on his face. As if it were an obvious thing to him as well, and.

Niall is sure the feeling in his chest, the tight, yet surprisingly light sensation spreading everywhere, he’s sure that it’s something close to love. It makes him so light-headed, and excited and maybe scared.

He said he wouldn’t, but.

“Dad? Nialler?”

He and Harry break their long gaze to look down at Bailey, who looks between them curiously.

“Niall? Do you want to kiss my dad?” he asks so plainly, so innocently, and it makes Niall choke a little, almost trip over his feet though he’s standing still, because. He does, actually. “Because, you know, my dad looks like he wants to kiss you too. I’m quite sure he wants to.”

The words make everything stop, make him feel like time has frozen and he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t now how to avoid the blush that is surely making him red all over. When he looks up, he sees Harry staring down at Bailey, mouth slightly open and tanned skin looking much more flushed. Looks up at Niall a moment later, and his eyes turn the slightest bit softer, fonder, and it’s all the answer Niall needs.

Bailey pulls on their hands, seemingly oblivious or purposely indifferent to their lack of words, and he leads them along their way back home, filling the silence with more stories of how Pig is _‘the best dog ever!’_

He runs inside once they reach their house, though, saying how, _“Auntie Gemma’s going to call from London!,”_ and he leaves Niall and Harry behind out on the street in his wake, still silent in the heavy, loaded air between them caused by Harry’s son’s words.

Niall still wants to kiss him.

“Um, I’ll be going ahead,” he says softly, trying to salvage what’s left of any dignity, but Harry stops him with a quiet, “Niall, hold on.”

He steps forward, diminishing the space between them, and Niall feels like either his heart is going to stop, or work itself to exhaustion with how fast it’s racing, and Harry holds his face in his hands tenderly, brings his head forward, and Niall almost sighs audibly when his lips touch Harry’s.

They kiss, softly, sweetly, and it makes Niall so, so happy and relieved. Harry’s lips move languidly against his, tongue running gently against his bottom lip, and then he’s licking his way into Niall’s mouth and Niall feels like he’s flying, a bit. Like his heart knows that this is completely right and. It makes him so content to be where he is-

“Dad?"

They part their lips, reluctantly, and with the pink in their cheeks for another reason, to look at Bailey, who looks unfazed to see his father and his piano teacher still toe to toe, much too close to each other, and he says, "Auntie Gems is asking if she and Nana can come by for lunch this weekend?"

"Um, yeah, okay," Harry says, sounding a little winded, and Niall feels a strange surge of pride because he'd been the one to cause that.

"Okay!" Bailey grins, moving to close the door to give them a bit of privacy, but not without a shouted, "I told Auntie that Nialler was here, and she told me to tell you to bring him along!"

Harry's ears turn crimson, and Niall laughs, has to kiss him again because he's so endeared. Kisses his cheek, right on his dimple, feeling him smile beneath his lips before Harry turns his head to catch his mouth in a proper kiss.

*

The next Monday, Harry picks Niall up to walk him home, and Niall withstands the merciless teasing from Louis and Roch because Harry takes hold of his hand as soon as he sees him, kisses his cheek, and any irritation he might have felt melts away.

He returns the favor whenever he’s out earlier. Goes to pick up Harry when he gets off from the bakery, makes him have to tolerate the cooing from the ladies he works with, spurs them on when he greets him with a light, quick kiss that never fails to make Harry blush and smile shyly.

It’s all so easy, it makes him a bit breathless. And not in the way his old heart made him feel either.

*

“Where are we going?” Niall finds himself asking, Harry’s arm looped through his as they walk away from their usual route home. It’s a quiet day, clouds overhead but no real threat of rain, merely there for the purpose of blocking the sun, and Harry had picked him up after his last-minute session with Daisy. Kissed him squarely on the mouth, lingering a bit more than he usually does and eliciting whistles from Niall’s employees and co-workers, making him blush that much more. He’d been quiet as they walked away from Croker’s, taking a different way and he hasn't said a word since.

"Wanted to make a short little visit, if that's okay with you," is Harry's short reply, and Niall doesn't understand until they're walking up to the gateway next to the chapel.

The cemetery in town is probably one of the biggest things in it. Sprawling, the size of a few football fields, and it's oddly quiet, in the way that it's not eerie, or. It's just quiet, soft and peaceful, and it takes several minutes of silent walking until Harry stops to buy some roses, then they're on their way again, Harry's grip on his arm seeming to get tighter.

David's grave is simple. A clean, square block of black granite marking it, his birthdate and date of death etched in plain print, and below it all, a simple inscription: ' _Loved much more than he knew_.'

Harry quietly lays down the flowers in a neat wreath in front of the stone, and he kneels quietly for a few minutes. Niall feels uncomfortable, like he's intruding in a truly private moment, and he doesn't know if he's allowed to stay, if he should, but Harry says softly, "Hi David. I know you've met him already, but this is Niall. I. I hope you're okay with this. I'm very fond of him, I. I like him very much. I hope it's okay."

Niall feels his chest go impossibly tight, feeling very overwhelmed and.

"I love you. I hope you're okay, wherever you are," Harry says, barely loud enough for him to hear, and Niall wants to leave. Let Harry have his moment, let this moment be as private as it deserves to be, and Harry leans forward a bit, whispers something and Niall tries his hardest not to hear it, let his ears focus on the faint whistling of the wind instead so his words are merely wisps in the air.

It takes a few long minutes of silence later for Harry to stand, look at Niall with a soft, sad smile on his face, eyes just a bit shiny, and he holds out his hand for Niall to take. He comes forward a bit, and seeing David where he now rests makes his own eyes sting, and makes him clear his throat, ask without really thinking it through, “May I. Um. May I have a word with him? Just need to say something to him, if that’s okay.”

Harry looks surprised, but he nods all the same, and the light kiss he places on Niall's cheek comforts him some. He moves back, just enough, and looks away so Niall can have a moment.

He swallows a bit, trying to take in that this is what Harry lives through. He's a twenty-six year old widow who'd lost his husband in a hit and run, left with a young son in preschool that he's still trying to figure out how to raise, all while trying to adjust in a life where he works in a bakery and maybe boxes every now and then, but he can't anymore, and Niall admires him. Quite sure he's very close to loving him.

He kneels gingerly, staring at David's name etched on the flecked, speckled granite, and he traces over the letters with his fingers carefully. Murmurs, "Hey, David. It’s Niall. I-”

He loses his words, feels his throat physically close up, and he blinks away his tears. Gets a grip on himself, says, “I adore him, you know. Both of them, Harry and Bailey. I’d very much like the chance to be with him. Be there for him when he needs me, I. I don’t know how to say this, this is so hard. Your- your family is very dear to me. I would never try to take your place, but if it isn’t too much for me to ask, I’d like the chance to be there for them. The way you used to, kind of. I’ll take care of them for as long as I’m allowed, and. I’d like to be there for them. I’m very fond of him, as well. If you’d let me, I promise. I promise I’ll be there for him, for them, in any way I can.”

He softens his tone towards the end of it, and he looks up to glance at Harry, sees him still looking away, but Niall knows he’d heard, with the way he’s trying to feign nonchalance but he’s biting his lip, blinking rapidly as if to stave off tears. He doesn’t call him out on it, though. Just stands back up again, it's his hand on Harry's lower back, kisses his cheek softly.

They leave soon after, Harry kissing the tips of his fingers and pressing them over his name briefly in goodbye, but neither of them say anything as they walk out of the cemetery, back to their normal route.

Niall almost thinks that he's said something wrong, preparing himself to apologize as they come to a stop in front of his house, but with the way Harry touches his chin with his fingertips lightly, angling his face slightly so he can press the gentlest kiss on his lips, keeping him there with his other hand curling loosely around his neck, he knows that they're okay.

Everything was good between them, even when Gemma pokes her head out of the door, yelling about the chicken having to be put in the oven though the glee in having caught her brother is evident in her voice. Much more so when Niall quietly offers, rubbing his nose against Harry's, to help with the key lime pie for later, and he gets another kiss in thanks amidst whistling and hooting.

*

"Nooooooooo!" Bailey yells, laughing loudly when Harry sneak attacks him and lifts him up into the air with his arms around his middle, the sound shrill and high in the cold air as they roughhouse, a bit.

"Nialler!" he bellows, and Niall just laughs at them from where he's watching on the sides, and Harry falls a bit more in love. Quite sure it will be full on, very soon, and his brief moment of distraction allows Bailey to wriggle out of his arms, run towards Niall and hide behind him.

"Baileyyyyyyy," Harry coos, walking slowly towards them, follows them with his eyes as Bailey drags Niall along, still making the effort to keep himself hidden behind him.

"Who, Haz?" Niall says, winking behind him and Harry can hear his son trying to stifle his giggles. "Don't know who that is."

"Niall, if you give him up, there'll be a tiramisu waiting for you at home," he says, coming closer so he and Niall are only a few feet apart.

"With the mascarpone?" Niall's red widen a bit, feigning a gasp, and Bailey says, _"No, Nialler, don't!"_

"And the powdered chocolate," Harry stage whispers, coming to step directly in front of Niall, toe to toe.

"Well, that does sound good," Niall mutters, shaking his head, but he continues to say, "But I like Bailey more than your desserts. Sorry."

"The disrespect," Harry acts all scandalized, but Niall just smirks at him, nodding to his right, and when Harry looks over in that direction, Bailey's run off, little legs working to get away from them.

"Oh, you sneaky," Harry mutters, and Niall just grins at him, sneak attack kissing him, loud enough for their to be an audible smack, and he runs off as well, going off in the other direction, and all the laughter in the air makes Harry so happy.

He feigns a growl, though, takes off to run after Niall and manages to catch him, tackling him to the ground and was supposed to get on top of him, really, but Niall. Wily. Turns them over and pins his wrists to the ground and laughing loudly as he hovers him.

Harry blushes, feels himself go incredibly red as Niall straddles his waist and Niall must notice, because he quirks an eyebrow at him in question. Then, he smirks, looking too happy, and he leans forward a bit and bites on his lower lip.

"Ni," he mutters, because he can't do this, not in the bloody park when his son is running around, expecting them to do the same with him, but Niall is making it so much harder than necessary. And. He hasn't actually often off in so long, and the way Niall's sat on top of him. It makes him feel flushed with shame at the way he wants to ravish him, a bit.

"Heyyyyyyy!"

Bailey jumps on both of them, landing on Niall's back with a great big laugh.

"Oof," Niall groans audibly, landing hard on Harry's chest, making him gasp a bit as well as he's bombarded with the sudden weight on top of him, and a mere second later, they're all laughing, rolling around in the grass and the fallen leaves.

*

"How's he?" Niall asks as Harry closes the door behind him.

"Out like a light," Harry whispers, taking Niall's hand and they walk away from Bailey's room, Harry pulling him along to his own bedroom. "That lullaby really did it, usually takes a lot longer to get him to take his nap. Thank you."

"Don't doubt the power of Backstreet," he replies, and Harry smiles at him. Kisses his cheek and he's so grateful, and he's bringing him into his room, turning on the lights deftly as He lets Niall take it in.

"It's lovely," before Harry can even doubt it, and he doesn't know why, but he's relieved. Goes over to his closet and pulls out his zigzag sweater. Hasn't worn it in so long, but he feels like Niall will look good in it, so.

"Here, I can leave so you can get changed," he says, handing it over to Niall, who just scoffs and begins to remove his own clothes, still slightly damp from all the running and chasing around they did earlier. "Niall-"

"It's fine, Haz," he says, pulling his shirt over his head and Harry realizes just how pale he is. Milky white skin, freckled and he wants to taste it. Dark spattering of chest hair on Niall's lean frame, tight and lightly defined, and It makes Harry a little weak in the knees, and-

"What is that?" Harry mutters, eyeing the strange scar running down the center of Niall's chest, quite terribly hidden within his chest hair, but it’s long, red and it makes Harry ache, just looking at it. “Is that from. From your medical emergency?”

Niall pauses, Harry’s sweater in his hands, and he nods his head slightly, as if to look down on the scar himself like he didn’t know it was there. Maybe. Maybe he’d forgotten, for a bit. “Oh. Yeah, it is.”

“What happened?” he asks quietly, coming forward a bit to stand in front of him. Holds his hips and anchors him down.

Niall’s quiet for a bit longer, chewing at his lip, before he says softly, “I’ve had a weak heart since I was born. Congenital heart disease, every doctor said that I wouldn’t live past my twenties at most. Couldn’t play sports, couldn’t do anything strenuous, couldn’t get too emotional or anything that would make my heart work too much, so. That’s why the dating. It never would have worked out.”

“And?” Harry prompts him when he pauses, rubbing his nose against his.

“Well, something happened just before summer this year,” he continues, voice getting even lower and softer. “I. I tried to play a bit of footie, just for fun, you know. Just to. Well, I collapsed. They told me I didn’t have long, months. Weeks, really. But, I got a donor. For some reason, someone thought it would be a good idea to give me their heart.”

“It was a good idea,” Harry says, voice quiet but he says it fiercely, with every conviction he has.

“Well, they seemed to think so. Got a heart transplant and. Here I am, relatively healthy. The healthiest I’ve ever been, definitely,” he says, and he looks at Harry then. Smiles warmly and Harry knows he’s going to love him. Not there yet, but he feels it, such a strong wave of _feeling_ that he trusts.

“May I?” he asks, and Niall seems to understand what he wants because he nods, taking one of his hands in his and guiding it to the scar on his chest. When he runs the very tips of his fingers lightly on the scar, Niall shivers slightly, but stay quiet. It's smooth, as he expected it to be, but the hardened skin makes it so real. That he almost wasn’t here, that Harry might never have had the chance to meet him and. He doesn’t like the thought.

He shuts his eyes, trying to stave off that stupid cry urge, and he leans his forehead against Niall’s, pressing his palm flat against his chest. Pretends he can almost feel the way Niall’s heart races beneath it, and kisses him.

Niall kisses back, reels him in, and Harry goes for it. Licks into his mouth and kisses him for all it’s worth, trying to memorize the way he tastes and feels and he holds on to Niall’s neck, pulling their bodies flush together.

"Well," Niall murmurs against his mouth, and Harry giggles, a little. Can't help it, even as Niall laughs a bit along with him and tugs his shirt over his head, pulls them together so their chests are pressed up against each other. Harry hopes Niall can feel the way his heart is threatening to beat right out of his body.

" _Well_ ," Niall then says, drawing it out, and Harry's confused for a bit, but then his hand is skimming down the length of his torso, slowly, then reaches the front of his jeans. Presses a bit, and Harry gasps when he comes into contact with the hard-on in his jeans, finds himself pressing back into the touch and. He hadn't even noticed he was getting hard.

"I don't," he mutters, biting at Niall's bottom lip and scrambling to touch even more of his skin. Claws at his back and presses himself to every crevice he can fit himself into. "Bailey, I- not too far-"

"Okay," Niall sucks at his pulse point, and he fights to keep his noises in. Bites into Niall's shoulder just to try to drown out the moans he's letting out as Niall shoves his hips forward, grinding their clothes hard-ons together.

He's being pushed back to the bed, and he lands on his back a little ungracefully, but Niall's still kissing him, taking his hands and lacing their fingers together, pinning them down over his head.

"This okay?" he's asking, licking across the seam of his lips, and Harry barely nods before Niall's rutting against him, and he moans loudly, the sound muffled when Niall places his mouth over his, swallowing the noise.

He tries to push his own hips up, but he's so overwhelmed, can't do much but kiss back, and it's been so long since he's felt this way. On the edge and so turned on and like he wants to press himself on every corner and space of Niall's mind. Knows that Niall is on every corner and space of his.

It doesn't take much. He detaches his lips from Niall's after a few more minutes, after a particularly mind-numbing thrust down has Harry's toes and curling and he's groaning into he still, stifling air of the room as he comes hard in the confines of his jeans. It doesn't take much before Niall does as well, sucking on his neck as he shivers out the last bit of his orgasm.

"Well," he mutters, petting Niall's nape, staring at the ceiling, though he doesn't know what he's looking at, lazy smile on his face.

Niall laughs at him, turning very red, and he kisses over his heart. Curls up around him and tangles their legs together. “Just say you stubbed your toe, should be fine. Actually, stub your toe for real, he’s a smart kid. Probably will ask for proof.”

“You’re quite amazing,” Harry murmurs, pressing his lips to Niall’s hairline, and Niall quiets almost instantly. Squeezes him tighter.

“You’re more than,” he replies, lips a light contact on his chest.

*

"Amazing," Liam mutters, presses on the mark Niall sucked into Harry's neck, and it makes Harry flinch in surprise, swat away his hand. " _Amazing_. Got a bite, on him."

Harry doesn't say anything, fights to not blush, but he turns red anyway, and he's just visiting today. Liam's got a few other clients, going through his circuit and there are others on the other side, jumping rope. Few more letting the punching bags have it.

Liam's just taking a little break as the other trainers work with them, and they're both watching as one of the coaches spars with one of the newer boxers. He's young, fast, full of promise. Harry watches him and sees what could have been, but he doesn't feel the slightest bit jealous. He's okay. He's accepted it.

"What's his name?" he asks Liam, staring as he pinches, lightning fast, at the pads on the coach's forearms.

"Josh, he's a mate," Liam replies. "He's good, yeah? Reminds me of you a bit."

"He is," Harry says, choosing not to remark on the other comment. "He's good."

Liam looks at him then, quiet for a good bit. Says after his moment of contemplation, "You _are_ happy, through. Right, Harry?"

Harry looks at him, sees everything he's asking in his eyes. Then, answers without any shred of doubt, "I am. I really am."

*

"Harry not picking you up today, Ni?" Louis asks as he's closing up shop, wrapping his scarf around his neck and tucking the ends into his coat, watches Niall pull on a leather bomber. Harry's, on a loan.

"He and Bailey went over to his mum's for the long weekend," Niall replies easily, locks the entrance to the school and walks  out with Louis.

"And you're not with them?"

"He _did_ ask me, but Daisy’s been asking to learn a Frozen song since last month, I couldn’t let her down,” he says, “Can’t just skip a session, and she always looks forward to Tuesdays because of me-”

“Bugger off, twat,” Louis mutters, hunching in on himself when the wind gets a little bit stronger. “So. This is real, then?”

“What is?”

“You two,” Louis asks, and it doesn’t sound like a question. “And Bailey. He’s practically become your son.”

Niall ponders the words, feels his chest get wonderfully tight and the beating of his heart making him tremble, a little, but none of it feels wrong. Just new and wonderful and he’s happy.

“It’s real,” Niall admits, the words rolling off his tongue so easily and he didn’t know it would come to this point. Knows he said, a little less than four months ago, that there was nothing to think about, with him and Harry. Knows how wrong he was now, and he prepares himself for the teasing Louis will surely give him. _‘I told you so’s’_  and other phrases of that variety.

There is none. Just, “That’s great, Ni. Really.”

“Not making fun of me?” he decides to ask.

“New lease on life, right?” Louis tells him, and the grin he gives Niall is soft, purely joy and affection. “Had a great feeling with you two. It’s just an amazing feeling, that you actually got a chance to see that for yourself.”

It makes Niall choke up a bit. Hides it though, for his sake. Louis wouldn’t miss the chance to tease him for _that_ , surely.

*

After they get back from the country a few days later, Harry goes in for late session in the gym and asks Gemma to babysit. It’s dark, everybody's gone home for the day, and the only reason Liam hasn’t left yet is because Sophia’s out having a girls’ night with her high school friends. Remembers watching Josh and all the other boxers train, that other day. Doesn’t want to do it to be recognized, anymore. Misses it for the ache in his muscles and feeling of satisfaction after a good workout. It’’s taking time, to get used to this routine without it, but it’s not as difficult as he’d thought it would be.

“Come on, Harry, focus,” Liam chides him for a fourth time, a record for Harry, as the circuit wears him down, the crunches his moment of reprieve as he tries to get used to doing all those burpees again. It should be engrained in him, this workout, and it still is, but it’s been a right torture, trying to do it at the usual pace he did it. All those dinners with Niall and after-dinner hot chocolates with Bailey, but he’s not complaining.

“All those _île flottantes_ getting to me,” he mutters, getting up to do even more burpees. “Next date, we go for salad. Lemon juice and olive oil on leaves, that’s it-”

“You wouldn’t.”

Both Liam and Harry look over at the new voice in the room, and Niall’s there, looking so warm and like sunshine, wrapped up in his bomber and his hair swept back from his face in a soft looking quiff, wavy and the slightest bit off to the side, eyes bright and the smile on his face brighter as he removes his scarf from his neck.

“Salad, you’re joking-”

“No more desserts, no sugar, no cream, say your goodbyes to the tiramisu,” Harry mutters, but he can’t control the smile on his face when he sees Niall, accepts the light kiss that he offers, though he mutters, “I stink-”

“I don’t care, it’s _you_ ,” Niall snorts, leaving a lingering kiss on the corner of Harry’s mouth as well. Harry glances over to Liam, sees he’s looked away thoughtfully, but not without the smallest hint of a grin on his face.

“Hey, Payno,” Niall then greets him, reaching for a one-armed hug with Liam. “How’ve you been? Sophia doing well?”

“I’m great, she’s great, we’re planning for a March wedding,” he says, beaming. “We’re in the thick of things right now, but we’re doing really well. Can’t thank you enough for the song-”

“Shut it, it was no problem,” Niall tells him, grinning back. “It'll be a beautiful wedding. So happy for you."

"Thanks, mate," Liam grins at him. Squeezes him tight around his middle, asks, "What brings you down here? You've never come before whenever I tried to bring you 'round, doubt you're starting now."

"I'm here for him," he replies, looking at Harry with an incredible amount of affection. "Wanted to watch him, maybe. If that's okay."

"I. Don't really do anything," Harry says, already conscious because he's still trying to get used to the warm-up. I don’t think I’d be that interesting-”

“I think you’re plenty interesting,” Niall tells him, coming forward to kiss him again, and when their lips touch, Harry feels himself blush, press forward and he hopes Liam’s looking away again. “So. Can I? Watch you, that is.”

“I. I guess, if you really want to,” he replies quietly, and he really, _really_ hopes that Liam’s not watching them.

“I do,” Niall tells him, smiles as he steps back and he takes a seat on one of the benches, and he beams at them both.

“I-okay,” he acquiesces, feeling all fluttery and it’s not like Niall’s the first person who’s watched him. His entire family has seen him box. Bailey’s his greatest good luck charm, when he was still doing amateur matches. David watched him when he could, it’s not that he wasn’t proud of Harry or uninterested in what he did, but. He never did actually watch him train, really. Picked him up after or brought him there sometimes if he woke early enough, but he was always so busy being with Bailey. Makes Harry pause, but Liam’s slapping his bum, getting into coach-slash-trainer mode and telling him off for not moving.

So he goes through two more rounds of the circuit, jumps rope, lets the punching bags have at it, and then Liam. Spars with him a bit after beating up the pads he attaches on his forearms, and the whole time, he’s got an eye on Niall. Sees him completely transfixed on him, smirking when he catches him and winking, once or twice. Makes Liam have to slap him too often when he loses his focus. Is told off five more times, definitely a new record.

“Distracted?” Liam mutters as they’re sparring, forearms guarding his face as Harry jabs at him. Gets in a punch on the jaw, smirks when Liam looks winded. “Wanker.”

“No, just inspired,” Harry replies, and he’s not completely comfortable yet, still looks off to the side where Niall’s still watching them intently, but he’s getting more of the hang of it now. The ache isn’t painful as it is satisfying, the way it used to feel, and he might not be doing this any more, but it reminds him of why he fell in love with it in the first place.

Glances in Niall’s direction, sees the adoring look in his face, and he has to grin. Pats his chest with his gloved hand and the smile on his boy’s face widen significantly, but in the softest way possible. It’s probably to blame for the way he doesn’t see Liam’s jab coming in straight for his chin, but that’s on him.

“Inspired, you twat,” Liam snorts, but Harry gets his cheek pretty badly, so they’re good.

*

Liam leaves Harry to lock up the gym for the day, and it’s not the first time Harry’s done it, but before, it’s always because he wanted to get another hour in, have the punching bags to himself and let out everything in frustration and stress. Now, though, Niall waits for him as he puts everything back in storage, and it makes the air heavily charged with something he can’t, or won’t, quite place.

“You’re so good,” Niall tells him as they walk into the locker rooms, and Harry snorts. “No, realy, like, I understand, why people would be interested-”

“You’re just saying that, I was off my game the entire time,” Harry replies, opening his locker and putting his stuff in.

“No, you weren’t,” Niall tells him, sounding firm and fierce and it makes something go hot in the pit of his stomach. “And if that’s what you call ‘off your game,’ then you must be really good.”

“You’re bad for my ego,” Harry mutters, hanging up his rope and gloves, and Niall just laughs behind him. “You’re just here to see me sweat, I’m gross-”

“Yeah?” Niall says, sounding much closer all of a sudden, and then, his body is pressed right up against his. Becomes much more acutely aware of the sweat on his back, clinging to his muscle shirt, with the way Niall is molding himself to his back. Makes him shiver slightly when he whispers, right in his ears, “Figured me out? Think I’m here to watch my fit boyfriend get even fitter?”

“I-I don’t,” he tries to say something, but Niall starts sucking on his neck, and it should not make him hard, but. “Ni, I haven’t showered.”

“Think I care?” he replies, hands coming up to grip at his hips, squeezing at his love handles. Could never get rid of them, no matter how much he boxed and worked out, but he’s thankful for them, right now. Feels amazing as they’re gripped, ties him down to the moment and the warmth in the pit of his stomach travels further down. Makes him hot all over.

“No, I guess not,” he answers, belatedly, and he’s gripping his locker door and Niall sweeps his hair away, sucks a mark to the back of his neck. “Liam discourages locker room sex.”

“Liam’s not here right now,” he says, turning him around and immediately latches on to his mouth, latches on to his lips and licks across his teeth, pulls him close and thrusts against him.

Harry kisses back fiercely, clings to him and bites at his lips, sucks his own mark into Niall's pale skin, on his jaw where he knows people can see. Shoves back against Niall's crotch and feels himself get hard, fast.

"Ni," he moans against his mouth, and when Niall leans back, the look on his face is wicked.

He leaves a trail of kisses all over Harry's face, his neck, pulls off his shirt to get at his chest and abs, and he's going lower, lower until he's on his knees and licking across the ferns on his hips.

"Fucking _hell_ ," he groans, fights not to close his eyes as he watches Niall mouth around the waistband, where he's pulling it down, so so slowly, skimming his lips over every centimeter exposed. "Ni-"

"Okay," Niall says simply, and his bottoms are off, shorts and boxers all in one go, and it makes him realize that this is the first time he's done anything remotely intimate with someone in over eight months. First time Niall's seeing him without his clothes, and it makes him nervous, suddenly. Not that he's got a bad body, because he knows he doesn't, but it is different. Being bare in every aspect, almost, in front of him, but he's not scared, exactly. He trusts Niall.

Niall pauses for a split second when his cock flips up to his stomach, and his eyes get darker, breathes visibly quicker. Then he takes his cock in his hands, which makes Harry moan and thump his head back on the lockers, the sound loud in the otherwise quiet room, the only other noises their moans and whimpers and heavy breathing.

"Mind if I," Niall starts, but Harry grabs the back of his head and Niall's laughing, then takes the hint and licks, from the tip to the base, and it almost makes him pass out.

"Stay with me," he tells him, breath warm and incredible on his erection, and then it's replaced with wet warmth instead, and Harry has to watch. Forces himself to look down and sees Niall take him into his mouth, slowly and surely.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ," he's swearing, breathing hard as he's enveloped in the tight heat of Niall's mouth. Niall goes further, further until he feels the tip hit the back of his throat and Harry's hips stutter, then Niall's sucking him, blowing him properly as he moves his head on his cock.

"Fuck, Niall," he whines, tries to let Niall set the pace, but he feels his hands on his arse cheeks, and his hips are being pushed forward, and he understands. Threads his fingers through Niall's hair and guides his head on his cock as he pushes forward, and the moans he feels around his cock makes him go faster, slightly rougher, and soon he's fucking Niall's face properly, fast and hard.

Niall sucks him, maybe a little messily, but it's more than good, makes him see stars as he slides down his throat, and the tightness around his cock makes him dizzy with pleasure.

The finger that lightly circles his rim is what makes him shout, come and fuck Niall's mouth with minute thrusts, riding out his orgasm and Niall swallows all of it.

He almost falls forward, held up by the hands on his hips, and he's trying to catch his breath. Opens his eyes to see Niall staring up at him, licking his lips set in a smirk, and he kisses him hard, tugs his head forward and bites at his lips and he wants more.

"Want you to fuck me," Harry mutters against his lips. "Want you in me."

"Fuck," he says, lost for words and he shoves his tongue into Harry's mouth, pulls him to the ground and the lockers clang  noisily as Harry topples to the ground, and he climbs into his lap, and Harry's suddenly aware of how Niall is still fully clothed, and he's almost completely naked and it makes him harder, he so wants to be fucked. Wants Niall to fuck him so badly.

"Take me home, please," he says, and Niall's nodding, kissing him again.

"Put on some clothes," is what he says, and the way he can't see the bright blue in his eyes tells Harry he's just going to rip them all off later.

*

As sweet and wonderful and beautiful and amazing Niall is, he is feral, knows how to make his knees shake and is so maddeningly incredible with his mouth, his hands.

They run home, Harry doesn't shower and dresses in clothes he didn't wash, and he doesn't care. Tries not to focus too much on the way Niall's thumb grazes on his hip, the arm around him pulling him close, the way Niall's finger would sometimes slip into the waistband of his jeans. He's teasing him, and Harry is so close to pushing him against a tree and fucking himself on his cock on the street for everyone to see.

It occurs to him that this is the first time he'll be seeing Niall's place. It actually isn't that far from him and Bailey, a few minutes away, and it's small, but comfortable. Harry feels the warmth wash over him, much like whenever he sees Niall, but this place overwhelmed him with it, like every muscle has relaxed and he's drowning in it, and it's just so _Niall_.

"Hey," Niall says behind him as he walks what he assumes is the living room. Brown leather couch in the middle, television and a carpet. It's clean without looking stale, and when he looks back at Niall, sees him smiling softly at him, and the softest kiss is placed on his lips.

His heart stops. And he knows now that he's properly in love, and it overwhelms him so. Makes him hold on to Niall tightly, cling on to him and kiss back hard.

Niall pulls him close, thrusts their crotches together, and he's guiding them over to what Harry sees is the staircase going up to what he assumes is his room, and he shakes his head.

"No, please, here," he almost begs, voice soft as he whispers it against Niall's mouth. "Please, please don't make me wait."

Niall considers him quietly, hands slipping underneath his shirt and he rubs his back in smooth motions, and Harry can’t breathe, suddenly. Leans his forehead against Niall’s and tries to catch his breath, feels lips on his cheek calming him. Then, he’s being maneuvered over to the couch, and he lands on top of it, the sound audible in the still room as Niall hovers above him, makes his way between his legs and sucks another mark on his pulse point.

Their shirts are removed, and hands are pressed against each other's bodies, feeling and mapping out muscles underneath their palms. Harry bites his lips when Niall ghosts over his dick, hard in the confines of his gym shorts and boxers, and they're tugged off slowly, mouth leaving kisses all over his hips, his thighs, his crotch, avoiding where he's hard and waiting.

"Ni," he whines, tugs at his own hair when Niall sucks on the head of his cock, suddenly, and he can't. "Ni, please-"

"Hold on, love," Niall says, voice gruff, and he's getting up, and Harry has to shut his eyes, thrusts his hips into the air and the wait is almost unbearable.

"Jesus, Harry," Niall mutters then, and he's kissing him hard all over again, and there's a finger probing at his hole, already slick with warmed up lube and Harry jumps at the touch, surprised but it feels incredible. He moans as Niall fingers him, Niall swallowing his moans as he pushes his finger into Harry’s hole, and he clenches his arse around the digit.

Niall has one, two, then three fingers in him, other hand on his jaw, tilting his head up as he kisses him, keeps him in the moment.

He twists his fingers slightly, and Harry moans loudly into his mouth, throwing his head back into the cushions as Niall grazes his prostate, and he can’t. He’s so hard it’s making his teeth hurt, puts him so on edge.

“Niall, _fuck_ -”

“Okay, okay,” he’s saying, appeases Harry with lips on his chin, and he’s pulling off his jeans, and they’re both naked, now, and they both groan loudly when their erections rub against each other.

Harry almost loses his mind, doesn’t know what’s happening, almost misses the rip of a foil and barely manages to see Niall roll a condom down his cock, and his legs are being spread, and Niall’s holding his face in his hands. Looks so soft and Harry loves him.

“Slow, okay?” he tells him, and Harry wants to say no, wants everything he can get, but as Niall’s pushing in, Harry cries out, can barely handle just the tip, and it’s been so long.

Niall lets him bite into his shoulder, and he shuts his eyes tightly, clings on to him as Niall waits for him to adjust. It’s a lot.

“Harry?”

“Sorry,” he mutters, tears leaking out suddenly, and it shocks him. Tries to hide it, but Niall sees, feels in anyway. Leans back to breathe with him, rubs his nose against his.

“Your pace,” Niall tells him, and the words make him cry, a bit. Sniffles quietly as Niall kisses his tears away silently, because that’s all he’s ever asked for, for everything that’s happened to him this year. And here it is, being offered to him, by a man he adores and loves, and he can’t handle it.

He moves his legs to wrap around his waist, and tries to urge Niall to move forward, make him push into him, knock their hips together. Niall takes the hint, and enters him, slowly until he bottoms out, until his balls are right up against his arse, and Harry breathes, feels like he’s being split in two and complete all at the same time.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Niall’s groaning, and he’s gripping on to Harry’s hips, squeezes at his love handles. “You’re so tight.”

“Please, please fuck me,” Harry says, and Niall looks at him, eyes almost completely black, and it makes Harry’s entire body go hot.

Then he’s being fucked, hard but still slow, each of Niall’s thrusts into his body just a bit rough, enough to make him moan loudly and make his eyes roll to the back of his head, make him arch up from the couch and it’s incredible.

Niall latches on to his jaw, sucks another mark into his skin as he shoves forward, his cock hitting his prostate every other thrust and it makes Harry lose his breath, and he’s so overwhelmed.

“Fuck, fuck, oh fuck,” he’s muttering, “Niall, oh god-”

“So fucking good,” Niall’s murmuring into his ear as he fucks into him hard, and he goes feral with it, gets up on his knees and grips Harry’s arse cheek and hip, holds him up, and he goes for it. Fucks him with a surprising amount of strength, and it makes Harry harder, as he’s fucked into the cushions, his heads thumping against the armrest.

“Niall, I-”

He barely gets the words out before he’s coming, untouched, white shooting up all over his torso, and Niall groans at the pressure around his cock, chases his own orgasm with hard, fast thrusts into Harry’s hole.

Harry whines in sensitivity, but it still feels too good, lets Niall fuck into him as he revels in hs fucked out state. Grazes his toe between his arse cheeks, barely ghosting over Niall’s arsehole when Niall comes in him, groaning and shouting his name, and Harry loves it all. Everything, every moment.

“Holy shit,” Niall mutters as he drops their bodies back down to the couch, and he still hasn’t pulled out. Harry wraps himself around him, limbs all over the place, and forces him to stay in there, just for a bit longer.

“Thank you,” he has to say, sounding small in his own ears, and Niall leans back enough to look at him. Knows he sees the wetness in his eyes, the redness of his skin, and he kisses Harry sweetly. Once on the mouth, then a lingering one on his dimple.

“Thank you, too,” Niall tells him, wraps his arms over Harry’s shoulder, and Harry hides his face in Niall’s neck. Lightly touches the scar on his chest, and beneath his palm, his heartbeat is strong, quick. Present.

Feels safe, wanted, adored. It's so much more than he thought he'd get again.

*

It's early, really early, and he should be getting ready for work, but when he woke up to Niall laying on his side next to him, still asleep with the sheets haphazardly covering his legs, but not enough to hide his arse, pale and inviting, and he feels himself get harder when he sees the purple marks he had made, scattered all over his neck, his hips, his arse (he blushes at the memory), and he can’t help it.

“Ni?” he murmurs against his ears, and the bed is sleep-warm in a way it hasn’t been in a long time. He shuffles closer, settles his hand on Niall’s hip and presses slightly. “Ni? I-um. Can I-”

“Hmm, go for it,” Niall mumbles sleepily, but he shimmies a bit so the blanket's completely off his bum, presenting himself, and Harry swallows, but he moves anyway, down and he spreads Niall’s cheeks apart, and he’s still got his come in him, leaking out of his hole, and Harry’s cock jumps to his stomach. He dives in, licks at the rim as he squeezes at Niall’s arse, and though he isn’t moving much, he knows Niall’s close to waking up properly, with them way he’s moaning lightly and pressing back to Harry’s touch, his arse in his face.

“Fuck,” Harry mutters, and he’s eating Niall out, licks his come out of his arsehole, licks over his rim and drags his tongue down his crack, thrusts his tongue into him and fucks Niall with it.

“ _Shit_ , fucking hell, _christ_ ,” Niall moans properly, awake now, but Harry pinches his hip, and he quiets down immediately, but his sounds are still audible as they’re muffled into the sheets.

He licks him out until his jaw aches, his spit running down his chin and Niall’s bum is wet with it, loose and open from the night before, and he has to be inside.

He finds the bottle of lube on the nightstand, pours some over his cock and spreads it all over himself. WHen he comes back to Niall, he’s already raising his arse into the air, and he has to squeeze himself at the base. Doesn’t think he’ll survive this.

“Come on, fuck me Harry,” he says gruffly, and Harry goes over to him immediately. Kneels behind him, and grips his hips. Guides his erection over to his stretched hole, and teases the head over the rim. Niall growls, and pushes his hips back, making Harry enter him a few inches.

“Oh my god,” Harry tries to whisper, because it’s early and they shouldn’t be doing this, but he fucks forward, forward until his balls are flush to Niall’s arse. Palms the expanse of his back, settles his hand on the small of his back, over the dimples, and he thrusts forward experimentally, and he sees Niall bite the pillow hard, the sound reverberating in his throat anyway.

He thrusts forward, again, and again, until he establishes a pace, fast and hard and rough, and Niall’s body moves with the force of it, forward and back, and his cheeks cushion his hips, knows they’re going to be red and eventually bruised. The slap is the loudest sound in the room, and Harry’s not sure about Niall, doesn’t know how he’s keeping himself quiet, but he’s biting his bottom lip, pretty sure it’s bleeding from how hard he’s trying to keep his noises in.

“Fuck,” he groans, Niall’s arse clenching around him and the squeeze is incredible, and he he’s pulling back Niall’s arse back to his cock, pounding into him. “Fuck, your arse.”

“Come on, harder,” he grits out, shoving his own hips back and he takes him in so well.

“Fuck,” he swears, falling to mold his chest to Niall’s back, and he rolls his hips, fucking into him hard and languid. “Niall-”

There’s a knock on the door, and they both freeze, Harry’s heart dropping to the pit of his stomach.

“Dad?”

“ _Oh my god_ ,” Niall murmurs, clenching around Harry inside him, and it makes Harry moan involuntarily.

“Dad?” Bailey’s voice comes through the door, and he knocks again. “Dad, I’m hungry.”

“Sorry bud,” he says, trying to make his voice as steady as possible as Niall looks back at him, glaring. He glares back, pinches his bum cheek, says, “I’ll be out in a bit, okay? Go on down ahead-”

“Why is your door locked?” he asks innocently, and Harry’s cheeks burn up.

“That’s,” he tries to begin, but that’s when Niall chooses to start moving beneath him, shoves his cock deeper into his arse, and it makes him choke. “It’s so messy in here, bud-”

“It’s always messy, dad,” Bailey replies, and as much as he tries to stop him from moving, Niall’s fucking himself back on Harry, biting the pillow to drown out his moans, and Harry is going to die.

“It’s-it’s messier than u-usual,” he stutters, giving in and pressing his palm down on Niall’s back, making him lean forward as he drills his cock into him. “I’ll be down, okay? Go ahead.”

“Okay,” Bailey says, sounding much happier, and it’s only when he hears his son’s footsteps going down the staircase does he push Niall down to the mattress, flat down, and he fucks him into the bed, rough and hard.

“Niall, you fucking prick,” he growls, letting him have it, and Niall just laughs underneath him, then moans as Harry hits his prostate dead-on. “With Bailey on the other side of the door, _christ_ -”

“Come on, come in me,” he just says, the smirk heard in his voice clearly, and Harry does as he’s told. Fucks into him, buries himself to the hilt and rings out his orgasm, biting into his shoulder as he spurts into Niall. Pulls out quickly and he’s moving Niall to lie on his back, and before he can say anything, he takes his cock into his mouth, all of him to the base, and he’s choking with it, the tip hitting the back of his throat.

Niall moans, loudly for a millisecond before he buries the sound with a pillow over his face, and just as Harry pulls back so just the head is in his mouth, Niall comes hard, and he swallows every bit.

“I hate you,” is the first thing Harry says as he pants, face still between Niall’s as he rubs his cheek against his softening dick. “Can’t believe we did that.”

“Hmmm,” Niall just hums, bringing a hand down to pet at his curls. "He'll be scarred forever when he realizes."

"Niiiiii, please," he whines, turning red all over, and Niall laughs at him, brings him up for a hard kiss. "No kid should have to witness their parents having sex."

The words and the weight of them make them both freeze up, and Harry knows he's gone a little far. Can feels Niall a little tense beneath him, and he makes to take it back, but Niall speaks before he can.

"Nothing wrong with me loving his dad, though. Right?" he says softly, and it's the last thing he expects to hear. He's so caught off guard, doesn't even realize that his cheeks are wet until Niall's kissing him tenderly, and his chest aches in the absolute most satisfying way. Like there's too much happiness in his heart to contain everything.

"No, nothing wrong with it," he replies, a little late, but Niall beams at him anyway, makes him light up from the inside out, and he kisses him again for lack of words to say.

*

Anne doesn't mention the marks on his skin, purple and all over his neck, but she smirks as she sips her tea, and it makes Harry blush all the same.

"I like him," is what she says, shrugging a little as if it were no big deal. Like she's said it so many times before, which, to her credit, she has. "I think you're good for each other."

"I think so too," he agrees quietly, drinks his own tea as they sit in her kitchen, Bailey off with Genma to the park, and these visits are a bit of a rarity, nowadays. School is really getting into the swings of things now, work getting so busy, but with the holidays coming up so soon, Harry had wanted to see his mum and his sister, see them before things got really hectic.

"He got a session today?" she asks.

"Planning this little New Year's recital for all of the students in his school," he answers, feeling fiercely proud of everything he's been working for these past few months. "Would you like to come? Bailey's got a great number."

"Oh?" she smiles, looking so pleased. "What's he doing?"

"Piano, but he won't tell me what song,” he says. "He and Niall won't tell me anything."

"Well, I'm sure he'll do great," she says. "Save me a seat, Gemma too."

"Yeah," he replies, nodding. Makes a mental note to tell Niall later about it. Feels so strangely domestic about it all.

“Before I forget,” she says then, reaching over and pulling out a large envelope from beneath the table. “I found these when I was cleaning out the guest room, and I thought that it would be good to give it to you. It’s all in David’s handwriting.”

"Oh," he exhales, and the envelope is given to him. There's not much inside, a few scraps of paper, but she's right. From what he sees, David's impossibly neat script is all over them. "Thank you."

"You can do whatever you want with it, love," she says, patting his hand. "I just thought that I shouldn't be the one to do anything with them."

"Thanks mum," he repeats, and he takes out the papers. "Do you mind if I-"

She waves him off, drinking her tea, and he takes it as permission to look through them.

His heart does this light little flutter as he reads through the papers, little bits of what were the beginnings of poems that were probably never finished, little musings or things that happened that he just needed to jot down. _'Bailey said "Papa" today. I knew I was the favorite,' 'Harry won his match, had an amazing night with him,' 'first trip to the park as a family, pretty sure that pigeon wanted to steal Bailey away and fly with him. I know the feeling.'_ Memories that dated back four years ago, back when he and David had lived with his mum briefly while they were still looking for a house in their little town. Didn't want to live in a city that was too busy. Wanted a simple life for their son, their family, and they found home.

There are also newer notes. Notes from when they’d come over and visit, their little family staying in the guest room, his old room upstairs gathering dust and hidden from the sun. _‘Gemma’s new boyfriend looks nice,’ ‘Bailey spat out Anne’s tea when she let him try it, incredible. Really is Cara’s son,’ ‘Harry, Bailey and I went out for a walk today. The streets are cleaner than I remember.’_ Little insights into the life they had, and it makes Harry smile with so much fondness. He misses him so, so much.

He didn’t write as much poetry, though. Gave it up to be a full-time dad, when he realized he couldn’t stay up in the clouds when he has a son to raise, and he never complained about it. Harry always looked up to him. How he could do all of it, without question.

Then he gets to the last few pages, and he notices how. Complete, these look. In order, not written offhand like the others, but with intent and purpose and it’s long, the longest by far, and proper, formal almost. Doesn’t look completely finished, and with words scratched out and edited heavily, and Harry sees that these are all drafts of the same thing, and he goes to read through them properly. Picks up the first sheet and reads. _‘Zayn. I know this isn’t something you’d usually get, and we haven’t talked in a while, but I’ve heard your a surgeon now. That’s amazing, I could not be happier for you.’_

Harry frowns a little, not knowing who ‘Zayn’ is, and doesn’t know where this is leading, but he reads on. _‘I’ll be very straightforward about this. I’ve just recently talked to my lawyer about my will, because I’ve got a son now. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but he’s the best thing in my life. I just wanted his future to be set, and Harry’s, my husband’s, so. I’ve got a will now. But I met someone else, the other week, and I have not stopped thinking about him.’_

Harry pauses, the paper getting scrunched up in his fist. He doesn’t understand what’s happening, but he doesn’t feel particularly optimistic about this. He knows David would have never cheated on him, and he knows it’s not that. He trusts him, even in this life, but with the way this is going.

_‘He’s my son’s piano teacher. He made the room light up, honest to god. And I’d never seen Bailey, that’s my son, so excited or happy about anything. Looks forward to seeing him than the actual lesson.’_

Harry’s heart actually stops as he reads the words. Feels himself stutter and go slightly faint when he goes on reading.

_‘His name is Niall Horan. and he’s become a good, good friend. At least I’d like to think so. He’s one of the best people I know. But I don’t think he’s got long to live. Says he’s got a congenital heart disease, and he’s been expecting to die for years, and he’s just been lucky. I don’t want that kind of life for him. He deserves much more. I want him to have a chance to keep on teaching and find someone and have an actual opportunity to live and not just survive._

_‘So, I talked to my lawyer again. Made a revision, and we’ve agreed to keep this private, should you choose to help. Just you and me, technically. I’ve made an additional request, should I die. I know it sounds strange, for me to plan this sort of thing, but I’ve thought about this for a long while, and I’m sure I want to do it._

_‘Should I die, I want Niall to have my heart, and I want you to perform the procedure. Please; I know we haven’t talked for ages, and-’_

The letter cuts off there, but Harry can’t read more anyway.

“Harry, love, what’s wrong?” Anne asks him, putting down her tea and she touches his arm gently. Looks so concerned, and he knows he’s crying. Crying and sobbing so hard, feels the tears on his cheeks and the way his breath hitches in his throat and he can’t speak, just cries and cries.

His husband gave his heart to Niall. Niall’s still here because of him.

He doesn’t know how to feel about any of it. He honestly doesn’t know, just knows he he can’t stop crying because. He doesn’t know.

She gathers him in her arms, and he knows she’ll read the letter later. Doesn’t know if she’ll feel the same way he does, doesn’t know if he can do this.

He cries, clutches on to her hard, so unlike the way he kept to himself and tried to show strength during the funeral.

This is much more than he ever expected. And he’s so confused on how he should react.

*

He and Bailey leave the following morning, cutting their trip short because he has to see someone. See if this is all true.

Drops off Bailey with Liam, who takes one look at him and doesn’t say a word and agrees to watch over him, cancelling the sessions in the gym today without question, and Harry is so grateful for him, that he doesn’t ask questions and just supports him.

He finds ‘Zayn’, a surgeon who does rounds in the local hospital. Goes professionally by ‘Dr. Malik,’ and he sets an actual appointment. Waits, fidgeting, in the waiting room, until he’s called, and he enters the clinic with shaking hands, but he sits, stares at the doctor.

He’s young. Maybe just a bit older than him, handsome in every angle, and it throws Harry off. Makes him even more nervous than he already is, the fact that he’s talking to someone much younger and much more expected in a runway than in doctor’s scrubs than he thought.

“Hello, I’m Dr. Malik-”

“I’m Harry. Styles,” he introduces himself lamely, but he barrels on, before he loses his nerve. “I was David’s husband.”

His eyes widen, and he leans back in his chair. Pauses for a moment, then says, “I’m Zayn. I-I was an old friend.”

“You dated, didn’t you?” Harry says. Has thought about this and looked at it from every angle possible, has read the letter over and over, and the way David addresses him. Talks to him, even through the written word, it’s intimate.

Zayn is silent for a minute, then he admits quietly, “It was a very long time ago. At least a year before you two met.”

“But you were special to each other,” he says, plainly because it seems to be the truth, the way Zayn’s eyes soften confirming it. “Okay. Okay. I’m sorry.”

“What?” Zayn looks surprised, confused.

“I’m sorry,” Harry says, “You lost someone too. No matter how long ago it was, whatever you two had. I’m still sorry, that you lost someone in your life.”

He’s lost for words, briefly. Then he shakes his head, murmuring, stuttering over his words, “You don’t need to- No, I. I’m sorry, too. He loved you dearly. I know.”

“I know. Thank you,” he says. Feels like crying all over again, “And. I know he promised to keep this private, between the two of you, but I need to know. Did you operate on Niall Horan?”

“I. I can’t reveal that, Harry. I’m sorry,” he says, but Harry’s shaking his head, because no.

“Zayn, please. I found a letter,” and Harry is so close to begging. He just has to know. “I just want to know, please. Did he really donate his heart to him? Please. Please.”

Zayn stares at him, eyes warm in a way he’s not accustomed to, soft and he sees the way how David could have loved him. But David chose him, and here he is, trying to keep himself together.

“What you might have read in that letter, Harry, well, your answer’s there,” Zayn says simply. Sounds so gentle. “I did it for him, okay? Because I did love him. Always the best person I’d known. And Niall, he doesn’t know that it’s David’s heart. Just that someone donated their heart to him, because he’s a good person. Don’t know him that well, but I don’t doubt David’s judgement.”

Harry nods, and the words. They don’t comfort him the way he had hoped they would. Makes him feel even more confused, the swirling of these different emotions in his chest unpleasant and he hates it. He knows all of this already, knows that Zayn probably doesn’t know that he’s been seeing Niall, but. It really doesn’t matter if he does.

“I’m sorry, I can’t offer you more,” Zayn says softly, and he realizes he’s crying. Doesn’t make a move to stop himself from doing so, however, in front of someone he doesn’t know. Can’t make himself stop, in any case. Just sniffs and wipes his tears and cries.

“I love him” he says quietly, not specifying who he’s pertaining to out loud. Doesn’t know personally, either.

*

Bailey misses his first lesson back. Harry’s not at the bakery. Barbara says she hadn’t seen him the entire day, but she knows they’re back. Harry had called in that morning, saying he wasn’t coming in, but Emma had seen them on her way to work. He was dropping off Bailey in school, but had seemed to skip out on piano lessons.

It makes Niall the slightest bit hurt, but more confused. Concerned. He’d left several messages, called to only receive the recording on their phone, on Harry’s phone. But he had gotten nothing. Radio silence, and he doesn’t know why.

He tries one more place.

The gym is quiet, looks empty, just having closed up, but he manages to catch Liam just as he’s going down the steps out.

“Payno-”

“He’s inside,” Liam answers the question before it’s asked, gesturing to the doors behind him. “I don’t know what’s wrong with him, though. Just came in and started training without a word. I let him lock up, though I don’t know if he was listening, though.”

“Thank you,” he says, pats him on the back, then goes in, walks straight to the side of the ring, where Harry’s still going at it, letting the heavy punching bag have it, making it swing from where it’s hooked up hanging from the ceiling.

“Haz?” he approaches, and he knows Harry hears him, but he doesn’t do anything to acknowledge him. Just keeps on punching, and Niall tries not to get disheartened. “Hi. How was your trip?”

“It was fine, Harry answers curtly, doesn’t look at him.

“Harry?” Niall tries to get his attention, tries to come closer, but Harry just punches faster, harder. He sees the sweat flying off of his skin. “Harry.”

“What do you want?” Harry mutters, and Niall Isn't impatient. Tries not to be, and it’s not in his nature to get mad or anything, what with his formerly shitty heart that didn’t work the way it should have not allowing him the opportunity to get angry without him getting attacks, but he tries to think, and he hasn’t done _anything_ to warrant this kind of behavior from the person he loves. He just wants an explanation.

“Harry,” he says, a little firmer as he steps to stand in front of Harry, blocking him from the bag. Harry huffs at him, looking cross and annoyed, and he tries to not let it deter him. Says, “Are you mad at me?”

“No,” Harry says, still looking miffed.

“Then why are you acting like this?”

“I’m not acting like anything-”

“Harry, if I did anything wrong, I would apologize, but I honestly can’t think of anything I’ve done recently to make you mad. I don’t know,” Niall says, can’t hold it in because Harry’s irritation is making him irritated and he’s not impatient. But he is hurt. “What did I do? Why are you avoiding me? What did I do wrong?”

The words make Harry stop, look at him properly. His eyes are wide, and he looks the slightest bit ashamed. Shakes his head as he says, “No, you didn’t do anything wrong. I’m sorry. I’m just being a twat.”

“Then why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?” Niall tries to touch him, but he moves back, stepping away from him. “Harry. I don’t understand.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he just repeats, shaking his head, and Niall's getting frustrated. Tries not to be, but his heart feels weird. Clenches and feels strange, trying to beat out of his chest as if it didn’t belong there.

“Then why are you avoiding me?” he asks shortly, and he hates the way he sounds so petty, but he’s honestly so confused, and he just wants to know.”

“Because I don’t know how to feel around you!” Harry says loudly, a few shades shy from shouting, and it shocks Niall so much they both go quiet. He watches him breathe hard, his entire body moving with it, and then he’s crying, trembling and folding in on himself, and he wants to hold him. Tries to touch his elbows, but Harry shies away from him and he doesn’t want to say it, but it stings a bit, that he’s so unwilling to let Niall be there for him.

“Harry.”

“I don’t know, I don’t know,” he ‘s muttering, sniffling and wrapping his arm around himself. “I don’t know what to tell you.”

“Tell me the truth,” he says, trying to keep his voice soft and he just wants Harry to talk to him.

“I can’t, you wouldn’t,” he tries to say, but he pauses, eyes wide, and he shakes his head again.

“Harry,” he says, one last time, and he holds his arms. Seems to be enough for him, because he cries, full-on, hard and loud and he’s shaking, feels his muscles tremble as he holds his arms, but he doesn’t hug him. Tries, but Harry won’t let him, shaking his head fiercely and moving back and it just makes him sob harder.

“You have his heart,” Harry says, the words muffled and unclear, but Niall understands, but he doesn’t, really.

“What?”

“You have my dead husband’s heart,” Harry says, almost shouts it, and it reverberates in the room. Goes deathly silent, and Niall. Niall can’t move. Stares in shock at Harry, feeling his grip on him go slack, but Harry doesn’t move away.

“I. I have-”

“You have David’s heart,” Harry finishes for him, the tears running down his cheeks in quick succession. “He was your donor. He gave you his heart.”

Niall can’t speak. Can’t find the words.

“I. I didn’t know. Know that it was his,” Niall says, for lack of anything else to say. He doesn't know how to feel. Feels too overwhelmed. "I. I promise, I didn't know."

"I know you didn't," Harry tells him, and it doesn't make Niall feel any better about anything. Makes him suddenly so aware of the blood pumping through him, of the heart beating in his chest. Feels suddenly, doubts. Doesn't know what to feel, honestly.

"Harry," he shakes his head, swallows and feels the strong urge to burst into tears.

"I can't do this," Harry says, closes his eyes and draws back to himself. "I can't. You know how I feel about you, but I can't do this. This is too much."

"Harry," he repeats, pleading. "I know it's his heart, but. I love you, I love- Harry. Harry."

He's crying, feels the sting of his tears leak out of the corners of his eyes and he can't. He cries.

"Please," Harry is saying, moving back so he's a few good feet away from Niall. Looks down at the ground, hugs himself tightly. "Please. I need to be alone."

"Harry," he fights a battle he knows he's going to lose.

"Please, I need to come to terms with this," Harry says, walking away from him, and Niall can't.

"And then what?" he asks, hates how his voice cracks. "What are we going to do? This isn't a thing that I can get rid off, Harry."

"I'm not asking you to."

"I know, but," he says, shaking this what because he can't find the words. "This. His heart, it's a part of me, now. You can't expect a few days alone will fix this."

"Niall," he says, sounding so soft and very tired, suddenly. "Please. I don't know what we'll do, but please. I can't do this now. If you won't leave then I will."

"I love you," he says, and he cries so hard. Can hear Harry doing the same.

"I'm sorry," is Harry's reply, and he leaves because he doesn't want Harry to, and he cries as he walks away, feels his heart ache in so many ways he didn't know possible.

It's his heart. It's Niall's heart now. He just wants to love him.

*

His mother is quiet, lets him cry for the better part of an hour, and Bailey’s been ushered off, confused as to why he wasn’t allowed to go to piano lessons for two weeks now, but Gemma’s kept him distracted. Games and toys television, but all he keeps asking for is _“Nialler, I want Nialler.”_

Harry knows the feeling.

“He’s right, you know,” she says, combing back his hair as he sobs. “It will be a part of him, from now on. That won’t change.”

“I know,” he mumbles, tries to hold himself together, but. “It’s just. I can’t. I can’t explain-”

“What do you plan on doing?” she asks him, straight to the point and gentle in the only way she can. Coaxes it out of him slowly. “He’s been living with that heart for almost ten months. You fell in love with him before finding out it was David’s. Do you feel any different? Do you love him?”

“I do, I do, god, _I do_ ,” he replies, saying the truth he does know of. “I love him, but. I don’t know.”

“He didn’t mean to get your husband’s heart.”

“I know,” he says, feels like his heart is breaking down on him. Had finally taken enough. “I’m not mad at him or upset with him at all. I just don’t know how to feel.”

“Oh love,” she looks sad, holds his hand and he grips back, tightly.

“Mum,” his lips wobble, “I miss him. I miss David so much.”

“I know you do.”

“Do you think I moved too fast?” Harry asks her, wants to know. “Do you- do you think I did this too quickly I know I said, ‘my pace,’ but now I feel like I moved too fast. I-did I do wrong?”

She looks at him, really looks, and tells him softly, “Harry. How you grieve and when you move on is your business. I can’t tell you what to do. But,” she says, seeing his eyes fall, “But. Harry, I would never, ever, think you wrong. For finding someone to love. For being happy. Finding Niall? That will never be wrong, not to me, not to you. David would never be mad at you for finding peace. And you know that.”

Harry can’t breathe, almost. Peace. That was a word for it, appropriate, fitting. The way he felt with Niall.

“You know, I was thinking about it,” she murmurs, and he listens. “That heart. Regardless of who has it, you know. Maybe it really was meant to return to you. Beat for you, in one way or another.”

He closes his eyes, lets his tears fall silently this time. The pain in his chest doesn’t diminish, but rather, a new sensation joins everything else. Has the strangest effect, almost lifts him.

“You know, one organ doesn’t make up an entire person’s being,” she says, and it hurts to hear, for some reason, but it is the truth. “As much as this was a part of David, as much as it is a part of Niall now, it does not define them. _They_ define them. And you fell in love with both of them, and they loved you back. You are so lucky, love. Right now, it might not seem that way, and you might not see it, but you are so, so lucky.”

His entire chest aches, and he just wants to know what to do. Knows she’s right, but it doesn’t make things any clearer.

Knows that he misses soft words strung together in even softer lines, scribbles and poetry and love. Misses piano keys and guitar strings and warmth and sunshine, just as much, in a different way.

*

He goes to visit David, after dropping off Bailey at school. Buys the usual bouquet of red roses, and walks in silence, pulling the coat closer to his body for warmth.

He’s just about to come up to the grave when he sees that someone’s already there. Definitely doesn’t expect to see Niall, standing quietly in front of his husband’s marker, and he hides, for some reason. Hides a few plots away, hopes he isn’t seen, and he looks at Niall. Sees his red nose and rosy cheeks, lips bitten, and he looks so soft in his beanie and jumper and coat. His eyes are shiny, and sad.

He misses him. Feels his heart skip a beat as he watches him lay down a few long-stemmed sunflowers. Doesn’t know how he got them in this climate, but.

He begins to speak, and Harry tries not to listen, but he cannot help but register every word he says.

“Hi, David,” he starts, voice soft and fond. “Just wanted to visit. I. I never got to thank you, I realize. Ha. Still literally breathing, because of you, so. Thank you.”

Harry holds his breath, watches attentively and keeps quiet.

“Um, haha, I don’t know how to say this,” Niall’s chuckling, so soft, and he’s scratching a bit at his forehead. “Um. Thank you. Thank you for letting me live. I’m sorry you’re not here anymore, but. I cannot, I cannot thank you enough. I’m so thankful. I am so, so grateful.

“I didn’t plan for a life beyond twenty-six, you know,” he admits, tries to laugh, but it comes off wet. “I. I never thought I’d have to, you know. I was okay with that, but then you gave me this chance, and. I don’t- I didn’t know what to do, at first. I didn’t know, I had to look for a new reason to stay, you know? I didn’t understand

“But David, mate,” he says, and the tears start to leak from his eyes, makes his face redder, his chest move as he breathes. “I met your son. I met your husband. I met Harry, and. And I don’t know if you’ll be mad at me for saying this, but they are my reason. They are-”

He pauses, lets out a great exhale, and the tears keep streaming down his face. Harry can’t breathe, feels his own eyes sting with tears and he has to bite his bottom lip to keep the sounds in.

“They are my reason,” he continues shakily, visibly trembling. “I am so thankful to still be alive, because I got to know them the way I do now. Your heart. It gave me this opportunity, and I will forever be grateful. I don’t know how to thank you.”

He lets out a sob, then tries to laught it off, failing as he wipes at his eyes with his sleeve. “I. I don’t know. I don’t know what you’ll say, but. I love him. I really do. Maybe this heart was always meant to love him, you know? I’m sorry, if this isn’t what you meant for to happen. But, he is my reason. So, even just for these last few months, thank you. Thank you for giving me the chance to love him. To love them both. I love them, so, so much. I don’t know what will happen now, but I am so thankful. I will carry this for the rest of this new lifetime. Thank you, thank you. Thank you.”

Harry cries with him, and he loves him so. Loves them both, and he. He is honestly so, so grateful. Two of the most wonderful, kind men had loved him, and to have a beautiful son, and.

Bailey. _Bailey._

*

“Here you go, bud,” he hands over the small hot chocolate, and Bailey grins, thanking him as he takes the mug carefully and takes a cautious first sip. Smiles as he looks up from the cup with a small chocolate moustache.

Harry smiles back, leans forward to wipe his lip, and he doesn’t know how to do this next part. So he just goes for it, and asks, “Do you miss Papa?”

Bailey looks at him, confused and curious, and he answers, “Yes, I do.”

“I miss him too,” he admits, and he lets himself sound sad. “I really miss him.”

Bailey nods, then goes back to his chocolate. He’s quieter than usual, and it makes Harry think if he’s being too obvious.

“You’re lonely,” his son says. It’s not wrong.

“No,” he says, trying to smile softly. “I’ve got you.”

“And Niall,” he adds, sounding so certain.

He swallows, his heart racing. “I’ve got Niall?”

“Yes,” he replies, “You’ve got Nialler.”

Harry looks at him, tries not to let himself cry, but Bailey looks at him so earnestly, and it makes it so difficult.

"I love Niall," he admits, watching him for a reaction. He doesn't look the least bit surprised. "I really love him."

"Like you love Papa?" he asks, and it makes Harry choke for a bit.

Makes him think, before he answers, sure and simple, "No, not like Papa. But I love him. Very, very much. He's my favorite person in the world, aside from you. Makes me the happiest I've ever been."

"Okay," Bailey says, unfazed. "I love him too."

"Like Papa?" he asks carefully.

"Hmm, kinda, but not really too," he says, sipping his chocolate. "Like, different. But also the same, but it feels different."

"I. I think I get what you mean,” he says, because his words don’t mean any sense, shouldn’t, anyway. But he understands them. “I love him very much.”

“Okay,” Bailey says, simply. There’s silence between them, and Harry hates putting him through this. Making him have to grow up faster than he’s supposed to, having to lose David and then not knowing what came next. Having to adjust to just having him and then. He doesn’t even know.

“I like that you love him” Bailey then says, smiling. “He makes you really happy.”

“You’re. You’re not mad, bud?” he asks slowly, tries to hold himself together.

Bailey shakes his head, “No.”

“You don’t feel like I’m trying to replace Papa?”

Bailey looks at him, stares, before shaking his head one more time. “Papa is Papa. Nialler is Nialler. He’s my other dad.”

“Daddy?” he tries, been wondering, and Bailey beams at the suggestion, nodding.

“Daddy. He’s Daddy,” Bailey grins, and Harry doesn’t need much more to accept it.

He leans forward, holds him close and whispers, “Thank you, bud.”

“Okay!” he replies, hugging back and Harry feels the tears prick his eyes, and he. Feels so relieved, so at peace.

Finally knows what to do.

*

When he goes to the grave this time, he’s alone. It’s quiet, as usual, but Harry feels that it’s different this time. Like the air knows what he’s about to say, and is trying to ease him into it, and he’s not scared, but. He’s already sad, as it is.

“Hey, David,” he greets, lays down the flowers. Roses, but. Pink and white. “I. I thought this would suit today, more. White and. Pink, for, um, gratitude.”

He kneels down, lightly grazes over his name on the black stone, and he feels himself choke up. Eyes starting to sting with the threat of tears, and he takes a shuddering breath, says, “Thank you. For bringing him to me. Thank you, even if you didn’t mean to. Thank you, I. I don’t know how you do it, how you’re still looking after me even after you’re gone, I-”

The onslaught of tears is too strong, and he cries, his tears falling on the stone and on his hands and he wipes them away,  shivering in the cold and. It’s painful. Cathartic, too.

“I love, you, and this isn’t goodbye,” he continues, pushing himself and he has to say all of this. He has to, so he steels himself and goes on. “I love you so much, and I always will. But Niall, I. Niall’s not the only one starting over, you know. I, I hope you’re okay with this. With m-me moving on.”

He pauses then, and he cries quietly, the tears falling down his cheeks and his heart races in his chest. Urges him on. “I hope it’s okay. I, I am so happy, with him. I love him. I really, really love him. I see this new lifetime with him, and I don’t want it with anyone else. I want this new lifetime with hm, and. I hope you’re okay with it.

“Thank you,” he goes on, breath hitching in his throat. “Thank you for letting him live. For giving him this chance. I love him. I love you. I love him, thank you. Thank you so much for bringing him to me, thank you. Thank you.”

And then, his heart slows. Feels at peace, and his chest feels light.

_Thank you._

*

He doesn’t see Harry until after the winter is nearly over, for the recital. Doesn’t go to the bakery, because he doesn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Doesn’t greet them  by the door to Croker’s when he starts bringing BAiley back for lessons, like he usually would. Lets Roch handle them and greets Bailey with a smile in their usual room, instead.

They practice, for the recital, and Bailey lets him pick the song, which. Surprises him, in all honesty. Was expecting him to ask for another Jonas Brothers song or something a little out of left field like all of the Coldplay he’d been requesting the last few times. But Bailey asks him, with the greatest grin on his face, to _“Please pick the song!”_

And Niall, doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know what to tell him, and he doesn’t know what song to teach him.

He thinks he was quiet for too long, because then Bailey starts talking, about the most random things. About his teacher with the big hair and funny dog, About the desserts the nice ladies at the bakery would sneak him when his dad wasn’t looking, about Nana and Auntie Gems, and he misses him. Misses this life, with Bailey and Harry and. He still wants it. He wants it more than anything, and is heart aches at the thought of not being able to live it out. Having a family together, but he’s come to terms with the fact that this isn’t his. He wants it to be, but he’s not the only person who gets to decide. But still. He loves because he can, and he’s thankful that he got a chance to love in the first place.

He has a song to teach him.

It's a bit slower than what Bailey is used to, and it shows that he has a hard time. Tries to speed it up every other chance he gets, and Niall has to stop him and make him repeat, and he feels the slightest bit bad because he's sure Bailey doesn't even know his song.

So they take a break. Take a walk outside and watch the birds, and Bailey pulls on his hand and drags him to the two birds sharing a crust of bread.

_"Niall, look!"_ he had yelled then, pouting to the birds. _"Look. Daddy, look!"_

He loses his breath, and his hand tightens around Bailey's. Is dragged along because he can't think, all of a sudden. And he's blinking back tears as he looks down at him. Is surprised, but not displeased, that when he looks at Bailey, he sees him as his son. It feels incredibly easy, natural and not in the least bit strange. Like it was always meant to be this way, whether or not thhey realized it.

The song is even more perfect, now.

*

The recital’s held in a small garden in Marvin and Roch’s house. It’s beautiful, quaint and quiet and soft,everything he had pictured, and the white seats are almost pristine, laid out in rows and they start filling up with guests, and the stage in front of them is almost glistening.

Harry sees Bailey and Harry early on, Bailey separating from his dad to run over to him, hug him and tell him how much he’s been practicing, but in secret because he _“Want to surprise Dad!”_

Niall smiles at him, pulls him into an easy hug, and watches Harry file in with the rest of his family. Anne and Gemma look beautiful, poised and elegant as they usually are, and Harry. Harry looks well, hair a bit shorter from the last time they’d seen each other, a bit more curled towards the ends, and he’s wearing a plain white shirt, sleeves rolled up to show his biceps, buttoned low enough to form a deep V exposing his chest, a small peek at the swallows on his chest and the cross necklaces dangling from his neck. An attempt at formal wear, he supposes. He looks handsome, and he catches his eye, briefly, and Harry smiles at him so warmly. Niall’s heart skips a beat, and smiles back.

He doesn’t know what will happen, now. Doesn’t know what it is, between them. But he loves him, he loves his son. And this is about him, for the next few hours, so he honours that.

*

Niall is beautiful. Hair looking softer than the last time, not as blonde, the roots standing out a bit more. His eyes are bright, gorgeous and he wants to looks at them for the rest of his life, the darker hair offsetting it well, and he loves him so.

Feels his heart warm and his chest go tight in the best way when his son hugs him. Runs over to him and greets him excitedly and Harry looks on. It's a sight he wants to remember, and it makes him dizzy with a wave of _want_ and a sense of _home._

The recital itself is beautiful, as well. Feels his heart soar with pride as he watches the students perform, and they're all incredible. Is so proud of Niall, for putting up this school and accepting them all and taking them under his wing. From the little girl who plays 'Let It Go' with the greatest passion, to the lovely looking elderly lady who shocks them with a drum solo to Niall's guitar on 'Sweet Child of Mine.' It is a great show, through and through, and when It's Bailey's turn to get up on stage, he's full to the brim with happiness and knows that no matter what he plays, doesn't know exactly what because he'd kept it so under wraps with incredible determination and stubbornness, he will love it.

He was expecting maybe a finished 'Yellow', or something from a boyband. He certainly wasn't expecting to hear the familiar, well-loved notes of 'Songbird' to be played, his son looking at the keys with careful precision, and back to the sheet music in front of him.

It's just the accompaniment, no one's singing, and yet. Harry feels himself begin to lose his breath, the way it really only has with Niall. Watches Bailey play, beautifully, perfectly, easily the softest, most tender moment the entire show, and he looks at Niall. Feels himself tear up when Niall looks on at Bailey with a fondness and affection he recognizes, knows the feeling well and he's so happy. So happy and he knows that he made the right choice.

Then, his mother starts singing. Not just under her breath, either, but out loud, " _And I wish you all the love, in the world-_ "

And everyone else joins in, easily and softly. _"But most of all, I wish it from myself._

_"And the songbirds keep singing, like they know the score-"_

_"-And I love you, I love you, I love you, like never before,"_ he watches Niall on the sidelines, his mouth forming the words and he imagines he can hear him over the rest of the audience. Feels like the words are addressed to him, specifically, and. He knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that they are.

Bailey finishes the song to great applause, and he beams as he gets off the stool and bows, and runs over to him. Harry catches him, and hugs him close. Glances up to see Niall looking at them with a small smile in his face, and he mouths, _'Thank you.'_ Gets a nod in return, another tender smile, meant just for him. And he loves him, so. Wants him to know it.

*

The day is a resounding success. The instructors gather around him at one point during the show, and offer him flowers and a cake, and he laughs, not suspecting, but he cries a bit anyway. Louis doesn’t even tease him for it, just pulls him into a hug and whispers, ‘ _I love you, you wanker_ ,’ in his ear as they all pile up in the hug, and Niall’s thankful. He really is.

Then, after the recital, as everyone’s getting up from their seats to go to the refreshments bar and mingle, Harry walks over to him, and he doesn’t know what to do or what to say.

“Hi,” he greets quietly, and Niall saves the soft expression in his eyes for himself, for future reference. It’s quiet, around them, everyone else having gone to the other side of the garden, and Niall knows that maybe Roch or Marv or Louis or Harry’s family is looking, but he doesn’t want to move from where he is right now. “Beautiful show. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you,” Niall says, blushing, then shakes his head. “That was all them, though.”

“I’m still proud of you,” Harry says, then he takes out rose, red, from behind him. “I’m sorry I didn’t get a bouquet, my supplier, um. They said all your friends ordered all of them, so.”

“Oh. Thank you,” Niall says quietly, accepts it and Harry’s fingers graze his on purpose. Makes his heart stutter, so effortlessly.

“I. I know we haven’t talked since. Since I told you,” Harry begins, and Niall feels apprehensive. Scared, for whatever he might say. “I’m sorry. I just needed some time, to understand and come to terms with it. I don’t feel any less about you. I love you.”

Niall’s chest tightens, and he swallows. “You. You’ve never said that, before.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Harry tells him, smiles apologetically, leans forward to wipe at Niall’s cheeks. He didn’t even realize that he was crying. “But it doesn’t mean I didn’t feel it. I love you, very much.”

“Okay,” he says, has to close his eyes because he’s so overwhelmed. “I love you too.”

“I want to show you something,” Harry’s saying then, and he’s rolling up the sleeve up his left arm, and there’s a new tattoo there, one that Niall’s never seen before. Looks rather new, the ink still starkly dark on Harry’s tanned skin, and it looks as if it were just healed.

A heart, anatomically realistic, inked over his bicep, rather large.

Niall stares at it, quiet, and says gently, “It’s nice.”

“I got it last week,” Harry says and he’s looking at him intently.

“A heart, for David?” Niall assumes, and he likes it. He really does.

Harry smiles at him, shakes his head. “No, A heart, because his heart brought you to me.”

Niall loses his words, then. Make his tears fall faster and more suddenly, and he wasn’t expecting those words, at all.

“It brought you to me, and I will always be thankful, grateful to have you in my life,” Harry continues, and he comes closer. “And I am so, so lucky that he did, because I got to love you as much as I do now.”

Niall tries to breathe, in and out, tries to get his chest to stop feeling like it’s about to explode. “Because it’s his heart?”

“Because it’s you,” Harry corrects him, smiles tenderly. “His heart, it kept you alive, but I’m here because I love _you._ ”

Niall really doesn’t know what to do then. Cries and comes forward to accept the kiss Harry offers him, and all at once, he’s at peace.

His heart slows, comes to beat at a comfortable pace, as if this was where it was meant to be. Beating here, Next to Harry. He doesn’t know if it’s the heart, or him, but in the end, he knows it doesn’t matter.

Either way, he’s home.

**Author's Note:**

> Carly Rae's 'Gimmie Love', for the title.
> 
> [Say hi.](http://www.castlestylan.tumblr.com)


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